
OCTJTION MADE EASY: 



CONTAINING 



knits avti Mtttwm for JBeclamatton arti fttaimtg, 



FIGURES ILLUSTRATIVE OP GESTURE, 




BY R. CLAGGETT, A.M. 

AUTHOR OF THE AMERICAN EXPOSITOR, 



NEW YORK: 
CADY & BURGESS, 62 JOHN STREET 



Uj 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 




4 



X 



ELOCUTIOI MADE EASY: 



CONTAINING 



Utiles axti filiations for ^alamation ani> Emirmg, 



WITH 

e 

FIGURES ILLUSTRATIVE OF GESTURE. 




BY R. CLAGGETT, A.M. 

AUTHOR OF THE AMERICAN EXPOSITOR. 

STEREOTYPE EDITION. 

NEW YORK: 

CADY & BURGESS, No. 60 JOHN STREET. 

1848. 



fw 1 



Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1845, by 

PAINE & BURGESS, 

In the Clerk's office of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern Dia 
trict of New York. 



S. W. BENEDICT, 
Stereotyper 16 Spruce street, New York 



PREFACE. 



Speech is one of the highest attributes of man ; and in a free 
government its cultivation becomes an object of paramount 
importance to those who aspire to a career of extensive use- 
fulness, or honorable distinction. Every year in our country's 
history enhances this importance, and affords additional rea- 
sons in favor of preparing our youth to meet the emergencies 
of the present and coming times. Questions of vital interest 
to our religious, civil and social institutions, are agitated with 
fearful success by the advocates of error ; the demagogue, as 
well as the schoolmaster, " is abroad in the land," and the 
question at issue is, which shall triumph, — whether the school- 
room or the political conclave shall prevail, whether our free 
institutions shall be sustained by the conservative power of 
the former, or be undermined by the selfish machinations of 
the latter. There is a growing demand for men, who know, 
and knowing dare maintain in public assemblies, with all the 
power of eloquence, the true interests of their country. To 
the School, to the Common, as well as the High-school, we 
must look for future men who are to advocate and sustain the 
purity of our public morals, the important interests of learning, 
and the noble fabric of our civil policy — under which, as a 
nation, we have thus far flourished. 

One of the chief glories of our country is the encouragement 
given to learning, and the general diffusion of knowledge. 
But half the education of our young men is lost by neglecting 
the study and practice of this branch, which gives to all the 
rest a tenfold value. Thousands of men, otherwise well 
educated, are often heard to lament their neglect of Elocution 
during their school-boy days, and their consequent inability to 



iy PREFACE. 

utter in public, those thoughts which they would gladly dis- 
seminate, and thereby confer a benefit on society. 

But parents, teachers, and the guardians of education, are 
beginning to realize not only the importance of Elocution, but 
the feasibility of giving it an important place among the 
branches of common education. Heretofore, although highly 
appreciated, it has been considered by many as beyond the 
aim or reach of the mass of our youth, and only to be studied 
by those whom fortune has enabled to attend our higher 
Seminaries of learning. The author of this Manual has long 
been convinced that the general neglect of so important and 
useful a branch of education may be attributed, in part, to the 
want of books adapted to the use of Common as well as High- 
schools. - There are several excellent works on this subject 
whose authors, with rare exceptions, seem to have participated 
in the general opinion, that Elocution belongs only to the list 
of branches taught in Academical and Collegiate institutions. 
But it is now a settled point, with experienced teachers of 
Elocution, that jt may be successfully taught in Common 
schools, both public and private ; and that an early and 
thorough training of the vocal organs is the surest, and, in 
most cases, the only means of securing excellence in reading 
or speaking. This Manual is offered to the public, with the 
belief, that it may promote the improvement of the young in 
the important branch of which it treats. 

The plan of the work may be more readily perceived by an 
inspection of its pages, than by a prefatory description. Every 
part, it is believed, is so plain and intelligible, that a cursory 
examination will enable any one to form a correct opinion of 
its general character 

Obligations are cheerfully acknowledged to several foreign 
works, for some of the ideas incorporated in the work, and 
most of the figures illustrative of gesture. 

THE AUTHOR 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



CHAPTER I. 

FIRST LESSON. 
THE ORGANS OF SPEECH. 

The principal organs of speech are the throat, the palate, 
the roof of the mouth, the upper teeth, the tongue and the lips. 

FORMATION OF THE CONSONANTS. 

Note. — The formation of the vowels is omitted, as their sounds may be more readily 
acquired by imitation than description. 

The best method of showing the organic formation of the 
consonants will be to class them into such pairs as they natu- 
rally fall into, and then, by describing one, we shall nearly 
describe the other, by which means the labor will be lessened, 
and the nature of the consonants better perceived. The con- 
sonants that fall into pairs are the following : 

p f t s sh th h ch chair 
h v d z zh TH g j jail. 

P and B are formed by closing the lips till the breath is col- 
lected, and then letting it issue by forming the vowel e. 

F and V are formed by pressing the upper teeth upon the 
under lip, and sounding the vowel e before the former and 
after the latter of these letters. 

T and D are formed by pressing the tip of the tongue to the 
gums of the upper teeth, and then separating them, by pro- 
nouncing the vowel e. 

S and Z are formed by placing the tongue in the same posi- 
tion as in T and D, but not so close to the gums, as to stop the 
breath : a space is left between the tongue and the palate for 
the breath to issue, which forms the hissing and buzzing 
sound of these letters 
1* 



6 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



SH heard in mission, and zh in evasion, are formed in the 
same seat of sound as s and z ; but in the former, the tongue 
is drawn a little inwards, and at a somewhat greater distance 
from the palate, which occasions a fuller effusion of breath 
from the hollow of the mouth, than in the latter, which are 
formed nearer to the teeth. 

TH in think, and the same letters in that, are formed by pro- 
truding the tongue between the fore teeth, pressing it against 
the upper teeth, and at the same time endeavoring to sound 
the s or z; the former letter to sound th in think, and the latter 
to sound th in that. 

K and G hard are formed by pressing the middle of the 
tongue to the roof of the mouth near the throat, and separating 
them a little smartly to form the first, and more gently to form 
the last of these letters. 

CH hi chair, and / in jail, are formed by pressing t to sh, and 
d to zh. 

M is formed by closing the lips, as in P and B, and letting 
the voice issue by the nose. 

N is formed by resting the tongue in the same position as in 
T or B, and breathing through the nose, with the mouth open. 

L is formed by nearly the same position of the organs as t 
and d, but more with the tip of the tongue, which is brought 
forward to the teeth, while the breath issues from the mouth. 

R is formed by placing the tongue nearly in the position of t, 
but at such a distance from the palate as suffers it to jar 
against it, when the breath is propelled from the throat to the 
mouth. 

NG in ring, sing, &c, is formed in the same seat of sound as 
har^. g ; but while the middle of the tongue presses the roof of 
the mouth, as in G, the voice passes principally through the 
nose, as in N. 

Y consonant is formed by placing the organs in the position 
of e, and squeezing the tongue against the roof of the mouth, 
which produces ee, which is equivalent to initial y. 

W consonant is formed by placing the organs in the position 
of oo, described under u, and closing the lips a little more, in or- 
der to propel it upon the succeeding vowel,which it articulates. 

Note. — Q followed by u is sounded like k followed by w. X is composed of the 
sounds of k and s. 



EXERCISES IN ARTICULATION. 



7 



CHAPTER II. 

SECOND LESSON. 
KEY FOR THE SOUNDS OF THE VOWELS. 

1234512 31 23 5 1 

Fate far fall fat wad me met her pine pin bird marine no 

2 345 61 234 32 33 

move nor not come book tube tub full use oil pound. 

EXERCISES IN ARTICULATION, 
HAVING THE SOUNDS OF THE SINGLE CONSONANTS AND THE VOWELS. 
Note. — Frequent repetition of the following exercises is strongly recommended. 



1 2 3 32 33 



B-A-le 


B-A-r 


B-A-ll 


B-A-t 


B-OI-1 


B-OU-nd 


C-A-ne 


C-A-r 


C-A-ll 


C-A-n 


C-OI-n 


C-OU-nt 


D-A-te 


D-A-rt 


D-AW-n 


D-A-mp 


D-OI-t 


D-OU-bt 


F-A-le 


F-A-r 


F-A-ll 


F-A-n 


F-OI-1 


F-OU-nd 


G-A-me 


G-A-rb 


G-A-ll 


G-A-s 




G-OU-t 


H-A-le 


H-A-rt 


H-A-li 


H-A-t 




H-OW-1 


J-A-ne 


J-A-r 


J-A-w 


J-A-mb 


J-OI-n 




K is sounded like 


c hard as above. 






L-A-te 


L-A-rk 


L-AW-n 


L-A-mp 


L-OI-n 


L-OU-d 






THIRD : 


LESSON. 






M-A-ke 


M-A-r 


M-A-ll 


M-A-p 


M-OI-st 


M-OU-nt 


N-A-me 


N-A-rd 


g-N-AW 


N-A-p 


N-OI-se 


N-OU-n 


P-A-le 


P-A-rt 


P-A-U 


P-A-n 


P-OI-se 


P-OU-nd 


R-A-te 


wR-A-th R-A-W 


R-A-n 


R-OI-1 


R-OU-t 


S-A-me 


pS-A-lm S-A-lt 


S-A-nd 


S-OI-1 


S-OU-nd 


T-A-me 


T-A-r 


T-A-ll 


T-A-n 


T-OI-1 


T-OW-n 


V-A-le 


V-A-st 


V-AU-lt 


V-A-n 


V-OI-ce 


V-OU-ch 


W-A-ne 




W-A-ll 


W-A-x 




W-OU-nd 


Y-A-le 


Y-A-rd 


Y-AW-n 


Y-A-m 










FOURTH 


LESSON. 












1 






B-EE-t 




B-E-ll 


M-EE-t 


M-E-n 


C-E-de 




C-E-nt 


N-EE-d 


N-E-t 


D-EE-m 


D-E-n 


P-EE-r 


P-E-st 



8 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY 



F-EE-1 
G-EE-se 

G-E-nus 

H-EE-d 

J-EE-r 

K-EE-1 

L-EE-k 



F-E-ll 
G-E-t 

G-E-m 

H-E-m 

J-E-t 

K-E-n 

L-E-t 



B-I-nd 

D-I-ne 

F-I-ne 

Gu-I-le 

G-I-be 

H-I-ve 

R-I-pe 

S-I-te 

T-I-me 

V-I-ne 



B-I-t 

D-I-m 

F-I-n 

G-I-m 

G-Ml 

H-I-m 

R-I-m 

S-I-t 

T-I-ll 

V-I-ll 



B-O-lt 

C-O-ne 

D-O-me 

F-O-ld 

G-O-ld 

H-O-pe 

J-O-ve 

L-O-ne 

M-O-le 

N-O-te 

P-O-le 

R-O-U 

S-O-le 

T-O-U 

V-O-te 



QU-EE-n 

R-EE-1 

S-EE-n 

V-EE-r 

W-E-al 

Y-Ea-st 
L-E-ast 



QU-E-11 

R-E-nt 

S-E-t 

V-E-st 

W-E-t 

Y-E-ll 
Z-E-st 



W-I-ne W-I-1L 
— — Z-I-nc 



FIFTH 

B-lrd 

D-I-rk 

F-I-rst 

G-I-rt 

K-I-rk 



S-I-r 



LESSON. 
1 

K-I-nd 
L-I-ne 
M-I-ne 
N-I-ne 
P-I-ne 



SIXTH LESSON. 



B-OO-n 

C-OO-p 

D-OO-m 

F-OO-d 

G-OO-se 

H-O-O-p 

L-OO-m 

M-O-ve 

N-OO-n 

P-OO-1 

R-OO-m 

S-OO-the 

T-OO-th 



B-O-rn 

C-O-rn 

D-O-r 

F-O-rm 

G-O-rge 

H-O-rn 

L-O-rd 

M-O-rn 

N-O-r 



S-O-rt 
T-O-rt 



B-O-nd 

C-O-t 

D-O-t 

F-O-p 

G-O-ne 

H-O-p 

J-O-t 

L-O-t 

M-O-ss 

N-O-t 

P-O-p 

R-O-t 

S-O-t 

T-O-p 



J-I-g 

K-i-ii 

L-I-st 
M-I-nt 
N-I-p 
P-I-n 



B-O-mb 
C-O-me 
D-O-ve 



H-O-ver 

L-O-ve 
M-O-nth 



S-O-n 
T-O-n 



B-OO-k 
C-OO-k 

F-OO-t 
G-OO-d 
H-OO-d 

L-OO-k 

N-OO-k 

R-OO-t 
S-OO-n 
T-OO-k 



EXERCISES IN ARTICULATION. 9 

W-O-ve W-O-t W-O-rth W-OO-J 

Y-O-ke Y-O-rk Y-O-n 



SEVENTH LESSON 

B-U-d B-U-llet B-U-gle 

C-U-t C-U-re 

D-U-n — 



F-U-n F-U-ll F-U-ry 

G-U-n ■ 

H-U-t H-U-e 

L-U-te L-U-mp 



M-U-st M-U-se 

P-U-n P-u-11 P-U-re 

S-Ui-t S-U-n — S-U-re 

T-U-be T-U-b F-U-ture 



EIGHTH LESSON. 



CONSONANTS COMBINED. 



BL-ade 


BL-eed 


BL-ind 


i 

BL-ow 


BL-ue 


BR-ace 


BR-eeze 


BR-ide 


BR-ogue 


BR-ew 


CL-aim 


CL-eave 


CL-ime 


CL-ose 


CL-ue 


CR-ate 


CR-eed 


CR-ime 


CR-ow 


CR-ew 


DR-ain 


DR-eam 


DR-ive 


DR-ove 


DR-ew 


FL-ame 


FL-eet 


FL-ight 


FL-own 


FL-ew 


FR-ame 


FR-eeze 


FR-ight 


FR-oze 


FR-uit 


GL-ade 


GL-eam 


GL-ide 


GL-obe 


GL-ue 


GR-ace 


GR-een 


GR-ind 


GR-ow 


GR-ew 


PL-ate 


Pl-ea 


PL-ight 


de Pl-ore 


PL-ume 


PR-aise 


PR-iest 


PR-ime 


PR-one 


PR-une 


SC-ale 


SCH-eme 


* Sk-y 


SC-ope 




SCR-ape 


SCR-eam 


*SCR-ibe 


SCR-oll 


SCR-e^r 


SL-ave 


SL-eeve 


SL-ime 


SL-ow 


SL-ew 




SM-ear 


SM-ite 


SM-ote 




SN-ail 


SN-eer 


SN-ipe 


SN-ow 




SP-ade 


SP-eed 


SP-ite 


SP-ort 


SP-ume 


SPL-ay 


SPL-een 


SPL-ice 






SPR-ay 




SPR-ite 






STR-ay 


STR-eet 


STR-ike 


STR-ove 


STR-ew 


TR-ay 


TR-ee 


TR-y 


TR-ope 


TR-ue 



10 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



NINTH LESSON. 



briB'D gaRB'D 
bubBLeS bubBLeST 
ruBS craDLe 
humBL'DST 



meaDS 

fouRTHS 

seveNTH 

CHeer 

breaDTHS 

cloG 



bleeDS 

fiFTH 

seveNTHS 

boTH 

CHime 

stuFFS 

cloGG'D 



gaRBS bubBL'D 

treaDST 

craDL'D ridDLE'ST 
hum-BL'ST kiDS 
fourTH 



nFTHS 

eigHTH 

THink 

catCH 

cuFFS 

stnigGLe 



siX 

eighTHS 
breaTHE 
latCH 
EFT 

stmgGLes 



leaDS 

siXTHS 

sheaTHe 
breaDTH 
]iFTS 



strugGL'ST strugGL'D'ST 



TENTH LESSON. 

caGe caG'D waGe 
biLG'e biLG'D bucKLe 
twiNKLES twiNKL'D'ST 
shacKL'ST breaK'ST looK'd 
foLD foLDS siLK 

heLM overwheLM'D 



heLPST puLSe faLL'st 
tweLFTH tweLFTHS 

ourseLVES caLLS feeLS 

steaLTHS naM'D atteMPT 

conteMPT straNGE pinCH 

wiNGS spriNGS leNGTH 

leNGTHS keePS distuRBS 
distuRB'D'ST 



waG'd 
bucKL'D 
shacKLe 
pacK'd 
siLKS 
heLP 
tweLVe 

deLV'D 

pinCH'D 

distuRB'D 



FledG'D 
twiNKLe 



ALPs 



stealTH 



ELEVENTH LESSON 



tuRF foRGe 

maRK'ST peaRL 

haRM haRM'D 

tuRN tuRNS 
tuRN'D'ST usuRP 

veRSE buRST 

paRT'ST paRTeDST 

seRV'ST seRV'D'ST 



foRG'D 

huRL'D'ST 

haRM'D' ST 

tuRN'D 

usuRPS 

buRSTS 

seRVe 

soaKS 



maRK 



usuRPD 
paRT 
seRVeS 
heaRS 



maRKS 



parTS 



EXERCISES IN ARTICULATION. 



peRCH seaRCH seaRCH'd seaRCHES 

maRSH eaRTH deaRTH riSK 

riSKS liSP lisSPS puZZLE 

puzZLES puzZL'D'ST priSM prisMS 

TWELFTH LESSON. 

Some of the combinations of vowels forming one syllable, 
ia is pronounced like ya, as in filial, pronounced fll-yal, 
ie " " " ye, as in spaniel, pronounced span- 

yel, 

io " " " yu, as in million, " mil-yun, 

ua " " tc wa, as in assuage, " as-swage, 
cial " " " shal, as in social, " so-shal, 

tial " " " shal or tshel, as in nuptial, pro- 
nounced nup-shal, in bestial, pronounced bes-tsheal, 
science l like shence, as in conscience, pronounced con-shence, 
tience J patience, pronounced pa-shence, 
tient pronounced like shent, as in patient, pronounced 
pa-shent, 

zier | P ronounce( ^ ^^ ce znur » as m osier, pronounced o-zhur, 

sion pronounced like shun or zhun, as in version, pronounc- 
ed ver-shun, evasion, pronounced eva-zhun, 
cious \ pronounced like shus, as in specious, pronounced spe- 
scious > shus, conscious, pronounced con-shus, factious, pro- 
tious ) nounced fac-shus, 

sure pronounced like shure or zhure, as m erasure, pro 
nounced era-zhure, pressure, pronounced presh- 
shure, 

tion pronounced like shun or tshun, as in nation, pronounc 

ed na-shun, fustian, pronounced fus-tshun, 
tier pronounced like yur, as in courtier, pronounced kort-yur 
teous " " tsheous, as in courteous, pronounced 

kur-tshe-us, 

dier j pronounced like jur, as in soldier, pronounced sol-jur, 
deur > grandeur and verdure, pronounced gran-jur and 
dure ) ver-jur 



12 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



CHAPTER III. 



THIRTEENTH LESSON* 



GRAMMATICAL PAUSES. 



The 



Grammatical pauses are 
The period ^ 
The colon 
The semicolon 
The comma } 
The interrogation 
The exclamation 
The parenthesis - 



Marked thus 



( ) 



The length of these pauses depends upon the nature of the 
subject, and the circumstances of the case in which they are 
used, rather than upon invariable rules. 

The period is supposed to be a pause double the time of the 
colon ; the colon, double that of a semicolon ; and the semi- 
colon, double that of the comma, which is generally stated to 
be long enough for the reader or speaker to count one. 

The interrogation and exclamation points are said to be 
indehnite as to their quantity of time, and to mark an elevation 
of voice ; and the parenthesis to mark a moderate depression 
or lowering of the voice, with a pause shorter than a comma. 



Rhetorical Pauses are those pauses which, in addition to the 
grammatical pauses, are observed by good speakers or readers, 
to give variety to the tones of the voice, and distinctness, 
clearness and force to utterance. This pause is marked 
thus | 

The duration of the Rhetorical pauses depends upon the 
same principles as that of the grammatical pauses, although it 
is usually shorter. 

The Rhetorical pause should be made . 

1st. After the nominative, if it consists of several words. 

2d. After the nominative, if it is an important word. 

3d. After the objective in inverted sentences, 

4th. Before and after an intermediate clause. 

5th, Before the relative. 



RHETORICAL PAUSES. 



THE INFLECTIONS. 



13 



6th. Before and after clauses introduced by prepositions. 
7th. Before conjunctions and the adverbs, how, why, when, 
where, &c. 

8th. Before the infinitive mode, if any word intervene be- 
tween it and the word which governs it. 

EXAMPLES. 

The experience of want | enhances the value of plenty. 
Truth | is the basis | of excellence. 
On Linden | when the sun was low. 
Trials | in this state of being | are the lot of man. 
Death | is the season | which brings our affections to the 
test. 

From the right exercise I of our intellectual powers | arises 
| one | of the chief sources | of our happiness. 

We applaud virtue I even in enemies. 

Honor | and shame | from no conditions rise 

A public speaker | may have a voice that is musical | and 
of great compass ; but it requires much time and labor | to 
attain its just modulation | and that variety of flexion and tone 
| which a pathetic discourse requires. 



CHAPTER IV. 

FOURTEENTH LESSON. 
THE INFLECTIONS. 

The monotone is a continuation of sound on the same pitch 

or key. It is marked thus The monotone has great 

force and dignity in pronouncing grave, solemn and sublime 
language. 

EXAMPLE. 

thou that rollest above, round as the shield of my 
fathers ! whence are thy beams, Sun ! thy everlasting 
light ? Thou comest forth in thy awful beauty ; the stars 
hide themselves in the sky ; the moon, cold and pale, sinks 

in the western wave. But thou thyself movest alone. 

2 



14 ELOCUTION MADE EASY 

By inflection is meant the turning or slide of the voice up- 
ward or downward from any pitch or key. * 

The rising inflection, marked thus ^ is that upward slide of 
the voice which is used in asking a question beginning with a 
verb, as, ^ 

Did he say no ? 

The falling inflection, marked thus is that downward 
slide of the voice which is usually made in answering a ques- 
tion, as, 

Did he say no ? He did ; he said no 

FIFTEENTH LESSON. 
TABLE OF INFLECTIONS. 

Did he say nate or late ? He said hate, not late 

Did he say beat or peat ? He said beat, not^eat 

Did he say file' or vile ? He said file, not vile. 

Did he say goal or coal ? He said goal, not coal. 

Did he say flute or lute ? He said flute, not lute. 

Did he say man or men ? He said man, not men. 

Did he say pin or fin ? He said pin, not fin. 

Did he say blot or plot ? He said blot, not plot. 

Did he say born or horn ? He said born, not horn 

Did he say burn or turn ? He said burn, not turn 

Did he say bar or far ? He said bar, not far" 



CIRCUMFLEX. 



15 



Did he say fast or last ? He said fast, not last. 

Did he say call or hall ? He said call, not hall. 

Did he say true or drew ? He said true, not drew. 

Did he say full or pull ? He said full, not pull 

Did he say bird or third ? He said bird, not third. 

The inflections in the foregoing table may be varied from 
one tone to an octave. 

Practising long intervals is specially recommended, as tend- 
ing to give firmness, strength and variety to the voice 



CHAPTER V. 



SIXTEENTH LESSON. 



CIRCUMFLEX. 

By circumflex is meant two slides of the voice. 

The rising circumflex, marked thus V consists of the down- 
ward and upward inflections. 

The falling circumflex, marked thus A consists of the up- 
ward and downward inflections. 

The rising circumflex is principally used on words spoken 
ironically — that is, on words expressing one thing and mean- 
ing another. 

EXAMPLE. 

■ s ,'*c, - , - y ' V A ' 

Hear him, my lord : he is wondrous condescending. 
Here under leave of Brutus and the rest, 
V 

And Brutus is an honorable man 

V V V 
So are they all, all honorable men. 

The falling circumflex generally is used to express reproach, 



16 



ELOCUTION MADE EAST 



and may be exemplified by the drawling tone we hear on the 
word you, in Hamlet's answer to his mother, who says — 
Queen. Hamlet, you have your father much offended. 

Hamlet. Madam-, you have my father much offended. 

Both these circumflex inflections may be exemplified in thus 

V A 
— If you said so then I said so 

SOME OF THE RULES FOR THE INFLECTIONS. 

Rule 1. 

The rising inflection should be made when a question is 
asked beginning with a verb, as, 

Did you hear ? Is the king dead ? 

Rule 2. 

The rising inflection should be made between the nomina- 
tive and the verb, as, 

Adversity is the parent of piety. 

Rule 3. 

The rising inflection should be made at a pause in a sen- 
tence, where the sense is not completed, as, 

Whatever your hands find to doTthat do with your might. 

Rule 4. 

In a sentence, where the two principal parts depend on 
each other for sense, the voice slides up where the sense or 
where the meaning begins to be formed, as, 

At the same time that I think discretion the most useful talent 

a man can be master off I look upon cunning to be the accom- 
plishment of little, mean and ungenerous minds. 

SEVENTEENTH LESSON. 

Rule 5. 

The rising inflection takes place between the parts of a sen- 
tence connected by corresponding conjunctions, adverbs, the 
subjunctive mode, and the comparative degree, as, 



THE INFLECTIONS. 



17 



As trees and plants necessarily arise from seeds, so are you, 
Anthony, the seed of this most calamitous war. 

We may as well be refreshed with a clear and brisk dis- 
course, as by the air of Campanian wines. 

If there were no cowardice, there would be little insolence. 

When you have leisure, attend to the improvement of your 
mind. 

It is more blessed to give, than to receive 
. Rule 6. 

The rising inflection takes place between the parts of a sen- 
tence introduced by participles, adjectives, mfinitives and pre- 
positions, as, 

Conquered and enslaved, it is not boldness, but necessity, 
that urges to battle. 

Awkward in his person and ungainly in his manners, James 
was ill qualified to command respect. 

To say the least, they have betrayed great want of candor. 

In the ruffled and angry Jiour, we view every appearance 
through a false medium. 

Rule 7. 

The rising inflection takes place before a relative, where it 
modifies or limits the antecedent, as, 

No man ever attained lasting fame, who did not, on several 
occasions, contradict the prejudices of popular applause. 

Rule 8. 

The rising inflection takes place when we address, invite, 
petition, or request, as, 

Gentlemen, allow me to lay before you the object of my mis- 
sion, which I will d"cTas briefly as possible. 
2* 



18 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



Rule 9. 

The rising inflection takes place in negative sentences, as, 
He was virtuous, not vicious. 

Rule 10. 

The rising inflection takes place between the parts of an 
antithesis or between sentences in opposition to each other, as, 

Philosophy makes us wiser^ Christianity makes us better 
men. 

Rule 11. 

Where interrogative sentences are connected by the disjunc- 
tive, or, the first ends with the rising, the rest with the falling 
inflection, as, 

Shall we crown the author of the public calamities, or shall 
we destroy him ? 

^ Rule 12. 

The rising inflection takes place on the repeating word or 
thought, as, 

Can Parliament be so dead to its dignity and duty, as to give 
its sanction to measures thus obtruded and forced upon us ? 

Measures, my Lords, which have reduced this late flourish- 
ing kingdom to scorn and contempt ! 

Note.— Series denotes an enumeration of particulars. If the enumeration consists 
of single words, it is called a simple series; when it consists of several words, it is 
called a compound series. When the sense requires that there should be a rising 
elide on the last particular, the series is called the commencing series ; and when the 
sense requires the falling slide on the last particular, it is called the concluding series. 

Rule 13. 

The rising inflection is made on the last particular of a com- 
mencing series ; and on the last but one in a concluding series. 

Rule 14. 

The falling inflection takes place on all the particulars but the 
last in a commencing series, and on all but the last but one in 
a concluding series. 

(Commencirg Series.) To advise the ignorant, relieve the 



THE INFLECTIONS. 19 

needy, comfort the afflicted, are duties that fall in our way, 

almost every day in our lives. 

(Concluding Series.) Nature has laid out all her art in beau- 
tifying the face ; she has touched it with vermilion, planted in 

it a row of ivory, made it the seat of smiles and blushes, lighted 

it up and enlivened it with the brightness of the eyes, hung it 

on each side with curious organs of sense, given it airs and 

graces that cannot be described, and surrounded it with such a 
flowing shade of hair, as sets all its beauties in the most 
agreeable light. 

Rule 15. 

The falling inflection takes place when the sense is finish- 
ed, when an affirmation is made, or a command is given, as, 
Nothing valuable can be gained without labor. 

Charge, Chester! charge ! On, Stanley ! on! 

Rule 16. 

The falling inflection takes place at the end of questions be- 
ginning with interrogative pronouns or adverbs, as, 
What is your name ? 

Who comes here ? 

When shall you go ? 

Rule 17. 

The falling inflection takes place on a clause which 
makes perfect sense of itself, followed by a clause which 
merely illustrates or gives something additional, and not as a 
consequence of what is in the first clause, as, 

An elevated genius employed in little things, appears like 
the sun in his evening declination ; he remits his splendor, but 

retains his magnitude ; and pleases more, though he dazzles less. 

Note.— The foregoing are only a part of the general rules which relate to the inflec- 
tions. But they are deemed sufficient for general purposes. 

It should also be remarked, that any of the general rules of inflections may be varied 
by emphasis. 



20 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



EXAMPLES OF INFLECTIONS. 

EIGHTEENTH LESSON. 
MARCELLUS TO THE MOB. 

Wherefore rejoice ? that Caesar comes in triurrrph ? 

What conquests brings he home ? 

What tributaries follow him to Rome, 

To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels ? 

You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things! 

Oh you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome, 

Knew you not Pompey ? Many a time and ofT" 

Have you climb'd up to walls and battlements, 

To towers and windows, yea, to chimney tops, 

Your infants in your arms, and there have sat^* 

The livelong day with patient expectation^ 

To see great Pompey'pass^the streets of Rome. 

And do you now put on your best attire, 

And do you now cull out a holiday, 

And do you now strew flowers in his way 

That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood ? 

Begone ! run* to your houses, fall upon your knees, 

Pray to the gods to intermit the plagues*** 

That needs must lighTon this ingratitude. 



EMPHASIS. 



21 



CHAPTER VI. 

NINETEENTH LESSON 
EMPHASIS. 

By emphasis is meant a stronger and fuller sound of voice, 
by which we distinguish some word or words on which we 
design to lay particular stress or force, and to show how they 
affect the rest of the sentence. 

A GENERAL RULE FOR EMPHASIS. 

Whenever words are contrasted with, contradistinguished 
from, or opposed to, other words expressed or understood, 
they are always emphatical. 

Note. — When both parts of this opposition or contrast are expressed, then em* 
phafic words become very obvious, as, 

'Tis hard to say, if greater want of skill 
Appear in WRITING or in JUDGING ill. 
But when but one part of the opposition or contrast is expressed, and the other is 
to be supplied by the understanding, the emphatical word is not so easily discovered. 

EXAMPLES. 

I'll be in men's DESPITE a monarch. 

(That is, in their spite not in their favor ) 

Such plays alone should please a British ear, 

As CATO'S SELF would not disdain to hear. 

(That is, not merely an ordinary man, but Cato.) 

A CHILD might understand it. 

(That is, not merely a man, but a child.) 

I am tortured to madness when I THINK of the insult. 

(That is, not merely when it is spoken of but when I think 
of it.) 

How beautiful is nature in her WILDEST scenes. 

(Not merely in her soft and tranquil scenes, but in her wildest 
Bcenes.) 

Do you ride to town TO-DAY ? 
(To day and not to-morrow.) 



22 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



Bo you ride to TOWN to-day? 
(To town and not the country.) 

Do you RIDE to town to-day ? 
(Do you ride and not walk ?) 

Do YOU ride to town to-day ? 
(Do you and not your son ?) 

DO you ride to town to-day ? 

(Do you go at all or stay at home ?) 



CHAPTER VII. 

TWENTIETH LESSON. 

THE KEYS OR PITCHES OF THE VOICE. 

Note.— A change of key is generally required at the commencement of a new sen- 
tence. 

The principal keys of the voice are the low, the middle and 
the high. 

The low key is adapted to solemn and sublime subjects 

EXAMPLE. 

The Lord, the sovereign sends his summons forth, 
Calls the south nations, and awakes the north ; 
From east to west the sounding orders spread, 
Through distant worlds and regions of the dead. 

The middle key is adapted to common conversation. The 
high key is adapted to high excitement. 

EXAMPLE. 

COURAGE — CHIVALROUS EXCITEMENT HIGH, LOUD, SLOW 

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more ; 
Or close the wall up with our English dead ! 
In peace, there 's nothing so becomes a man, 
As modest stillness, and humility ; 



MANAGEMENT OF THE BREATH 



23 



But when the blast of war blows in our ears, 
Then imitate the action of the tiger ; 
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, 
Disguise fair nature with hard-favored rage. 
On, an, you noblest English, 

Whose blood is fetched from fathers of war-proof ' 

Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders, 

Have, in these parts, from morn till even fought, 

And sheathed their swords for lack of argument. 

I see you stand like greyhomids in the slips, 

Straining upon the start. The game 5 s afoot ; 

Follow your spirit : and, upon this charge, 

Cry — Heaven for Harry ! England ! and St. George ! 

COURAGE DESPERATE EXCITEMENT HIGH, LOUD, SLOW, MORE 

ASPIRATED. 

Fight, gentlemen of England ! fight, bold yeomen ! 
Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head : 
Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood ; 
Amaze the welkin with your broken staves ! — 
A thousand hearts are great within my bosom : 
Advance our standards, set upon our foes ; 
Our ancient word of courage, fair St. George, 
Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons ! 
Upon them 1 Victory sits on our helms. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

TWENTY-FIRST LESSON. 
THE MANAGEMENT OF THE BREATH. 

The importance of skillfully managing the breath can be 
duly appreciated by those only who have been trained to it. 

It is much to be regretted, that this subject has not received 
more attention from writers on Elocution ; while some musical 
writers have given it a prominent place in their works, and 
the most eminent teachers of vocal music give it special atten- 
tion in their instructions But most teachers of Reading and 



24 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



Speaking more or less neglect it. This is one of the main 
reasons that so few efficient and accomplished readers are 
found in many of our schools. This subject has a special 
claim to attention, as it has an important bearing on health, as 
well as on elocution. 

A few exercises are here submitted, which may be readily 
understood* and practised by any teacher who may concur 
with the author in his opinion of their utility. It is confidently 
believed, that by exercises like the following, the power and 
extent of the voice may be greatly increased. 

Note. — Let the pupil or pupils inhale a full breath before commencing, and con 
tinue the sound of the vowel, on one key or pitch, while the teacher or another 
pupil is counting the numbers expressed above the line. In all cases a full breath 
should be taken as quickly as possible. A new pitch may be taken at each line. 
Those who are acquainted with the rudiments of music, will find it beneficial to 
practise these or similar exercises in octaves, or such other distances as they may prefer. 



TWENTY-SECOND LESSON. 

Teacher, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 

pupil, Ha------- - - - le 

Teacher, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 

pupil, A-------- - h 

Teacher, 12345678. 9 10 11 12 

pupil, A------- - - - 11 

Teacher, 1234557891011 12 

pupil, Ma - -- -- -- -- - n 

Teacher, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 

pupil, ' Hee - - - - - — . - 1 

Teacher, 1 23456789 10 11 12 

pupil, Be- - - 11 

Teacher, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 

pupil, Pi - -- -- -- -- - ne 

Teacher, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 

pupil, Hi-------- - - 11 

Teacher, 123456789 10 11 12 

pupil, Bi - -- -- -- -- - rd 

Teacher, 123456789 10 11 12 

pupil, Mo - - - -- -- -- - le 

Teacher, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 

pupil, Mo - -- -- -- -- - ve 



MANAGEMENT OF THE BREATH. 25 

Teacher, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 

pupil, - - - - - - - - r 

Teacher, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 

pupil, JN T o ------ - I 1 t 

Teacher, 12345678910 11 12 

pupil, Tu - -- -- -- - - - be 

Teacher, 1 2 3 4 5_ 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 

pupil, Tu - -- -- -- -- - b 

Teacher, 123456789 10 11 12 

pupil, Fa - - - - - - - - ~ - II 

TWENTY-THIRD LESSON. 

Teacher, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 

pupil, Ha - ______ i e 

Teacher, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 1 9 20 

pupil, A __________ h 

Teacher, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 

pupil, A __________ 11 

Teacher, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 

pupil, Ma n 

Teacher, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 

pupil, I lee 1 

Teacher, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 2 

pupil, Be - - - - - - - - - 11 

Teacher, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 

pupil, Pi ~ - - - - - - - - ne 

Teacher, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 

pupil, Hi - - - - - - - - - 11 

Teacher, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 

pupil, Bi - - - - - - - - - rd 

Teacher, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 

oupil, Mo __________ le 

Teacher, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 

pupil, Mo - - - - - - - - -ve 

Teacher, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 IS 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 

pupil, ___„______ r 

Teacher, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 

pupil, No __________ * 

3 



26 ELOCUTIONS MADE EASY. 

Teacher, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 

pupil, Tu - - - - - - - - - be 

Teacher, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 

pupil, Tu - - - - - - b 

Teacher, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 

pupil, Fu __ _________ u 

TWENTY-FOURTH LESSON. 

Tea'r., 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 

pupil, Ha - - _ _ _ _ - - - - -le 

Tea'r., 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 

pupil, A - - -- - - - - ------ h 

Tea'r. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 

pupil, A - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 11 

Tea'r. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 1 920 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 

pu'i. Ma . _ _ _ n 

Tea'r. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 

p'l. Hee - - - 1 

Tear. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 

pupil Be-- • - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 1} 

Tea'r. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 

pupil, Pi- -~- - - - - ------- H 

Tea'r. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 1C 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 

pupil,Hi - -- -- U 

Tea'r. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 

pupil, Bi '-- - - • - - - rd 

Tea'r. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 

pu'l. Mo le 

Tea'r. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 

pu ! l. Mo - - - - - ve 

Tea'r. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 

pupil, O ■ - - - • - Jf 

Tea'r . 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26- 27 28 29 30 31 32 

pu'l, No-- t 

T ea'r. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 

pu'l. Tu - - ■ - - be 

Tea' r. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 

pu'l. Tu - ----- b 

Tea'r. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 
pupil, Fu -D 



MANAGEMENT OF THE BREATH. 



27 



CHAPTER IX. 

TWENTY-FIFTH LESSON. 

Note. — In the following selections the capital letter (R) denotes the place for res- 
piration, or drawing the breath. But let it not be understood that the places thus de- 
noted are the only places at which the breath should be taken ; or, that it should 
always be taken at them, unless as an exercise for the voice. Some persons can read, 
speak, or sing much longer with one breath, than others. Therefore no definite rules 
for respiration should be given. 

THE RAINBOW. 

Baldwin's Lond. Magazine. 

(R) The evening was glorious, and light through the trees 
(R) Play'd the sunshine and rain-drops, the birds and the 
breeze, 

(R) The landscape, outstretching in loveliness, lay 
(R) On the lap of the year, in the beauty of May. 

(R) For the queen of the Spring, as she pass'd down the vale, 
Left her robe on the trees, and her breath on the gale ; 

(R) And the smile of her promise gave joy to the hours, 
And flush in her footsteps sprang herbage and flowers. 

(R) The skies, like a banner in sun-set unroll'd, 

O'er the west threw their splendor of azure and gold ; 

(R) But one cloud at a distance rose dense, and increas'd, 
Till its margin of black touch'd the zenith, and east. 

(R) We gazed on the scenes, while around us they glow'd, 
When a vision of beauty appear'd on the cloud ; — 

(R) 'Twas not like the Sun, as at mid -day we view, 

Nor the Moon, that rolls nightly through star-light and blue 

(R) Like a spirit, it came in the van of a storm ! 

And the eye. and the heart, hail'd its beautiful form, 
(R) For it look'd not severe, like an Angel of Wrath, 

But its garment of brightness illumed its dark path. 



28 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

(R) In the hues of its grandeur, sublimely it stood, 
O'er the river, the village, the field, and the wood ; 

(R) And river, field, village, and woodlands grew bright, 
As conscious they gave and afforded delight. 

(R) 'Twas the bow of Omnipotence, bent in His hand 
Whose grasp at Creation the universe spann'd ; 

(R) 'Twas the presence of God, in a symbol sublime, 
His vow from the flood to the exit of time. 

(R) Not dreadful, as when in the whirlwind he pleads, 

When storms are his chariot, and lightnings his steeds, 

(R) The black clouds his banner of vengeance unfurl'd, 
And thunder his voice to a guilt-stricken world ;— > 

(R) In the breath of his presence, when thousands expire, 

And seas boil with fury, and rocks burn with fire, 
(R) And the sword and the plague-spot, with death strew th 
plain, 

And vultures, and wolves, are the graves of the slain 

(R) Not such was the Rainbow, that beautiful one ! 

Whose arch was refraction, its keystone — the Sun , 
(R) A pavilion it seem'd which the Deity graced, 

And Justice and Mercy met there, and embraced. 

(R) Awhile, and it sweetly bent over the gloom, 

Like Love o'er a death couch, or Hope o'er the tomb ; 
Then left the dark scene ; whence it slowly retired, 
As Love had just vanished, or Hope had expired 

(R) I gazed not alone on that source of my song ; 
To all who beheld it these verses belong ; 
Its presence to all was the path of the Lord ! 
Each full heart expanded, grew warm, and adored. 

(R) Like a visit — the converse of friends — or a day, 
That bow, from my sight, passed for ever away : 
Like that visit, that converse, that day — to my heart, 
That bow from remembrance can never depart. 



MANAGEMENT OF THE BREATH. 



29 



(R) 'Tis a picture in memory distinctly defined, 

With the strong and unperishing colors of mind : 

A part of my being beyond my control, 

Beheld on that cloud, and transcribed on my soul. 

TWENTY-SIXTH LESSON. 
Extract from Heroines of Sacred History, by Mrs. Steele 
HEROISM OF DEBORAH. 

(R) Night with her lustrous stars, her silence and repose, 
had passed away, (R) and soft-eyed dawn, heralded by gentle 
zephyrs, and breathing out perfume, (R) arose from Asia's mists 
like the poet's Venus from the sea, (R) all smiles and gladness. 
(R) Each flower threw out its fairy petals, (R) and wafted forth 
its fragrant incense to the day. (R) Almond and citron blossoms, 
brilliant pomegranate, (R) and oleander tossed the dew from 
their delicate heads, (R) and shook their fragile branches in the 
morning breeze. (R) The birds were on every bough (R) sing- 
ing their rejoicings to the coming day; (R) for as yet the sun 
had not appeared, (R) but clouds of rose and purple told of his 
near approach, (R) and threw a softened radiance over plain 
and hill and valley. (R) A clear and gentle river — Kishon, (R) 
"that ancient river, the river Kishon," (R) wound through the 
verdant plain. (R) By its side arose a sloping hill, (R) whose 
summit was crowned by a grove of oaks and elms, (R) among 
whose shadows a lordly temple was just made visible (R) as 
the sun's first rays fell on the hill- top, (R) while all below still 
lay in shade. (R) The rising light revealed its snowy porticos 
and lofty arches, (R) and graceful columns of rare proportion; 
(R) then passing down the hill shone on a procession of solemn 
worshippers (R) who were winding along the river's bank, and 
ascending to the temple above. (R) Conspicuous among the 
throng were the sacred oxen, (R) who gaily decorated with 
ribbons, and wreathed with roses, (R) were led by young boys 
clad in white robes (R) and crowned with garlands. (R) Behind 
them came a train of women dancing, (R) and singing to in- 
struments of music ; (R) while preceding and around the vic- 
tims were several hundred priests (R) whose black robes threw 
the only shadow over a landscape (R) now brightly illumin- 
3* 



30 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY 



ed by the broadly risen sun. (R) The procession ascended the 
hill ; (R) the temple doors were thrown open ; (R) the priests 
entered and advanced to the altar. (R) There upon two pedes- 
tals, stood the gods they came to worship. (R) The one, a man 
cast in brass, having an ox's head — (R) the other of marble, and 
human shape, clothed in a coat of golden mail, (R) wearing a 
crown and wielding a sword; (R) the former was Moloch, and 
the latter Baal. (R) To these gods of marble and gold (R) the 
priests and people had come to ask for protection from a pow- 
erful enemy, (R) who in predatory bands made inroads upon 
them, (R) and carried away flocks, and people, and goods. 

Reader, canst thou say in what land arose this temple, (R) 
these images of marble, and these idol worshippeis ? (R) Canst 
thou believe it was in Israel ? (R) In the promised land ? (R) 
Alas — it was the dear-bought land of Canaan (R) and these de- 
luded idolators were the sons of Judah, (R) once God's own 
peculiar people ! 

TWENTY-SEVENTH LESSON 
Extract from the same. 
HEROISM OF JEPTHAH'S DAUGHTER. 

The city of Gilead was filled with rejoicing (R) that their 
enemy was repelled, (R) and its streets were crowded with 
the citizens, (R) eager to behold the triumphant entry (R) of 
their victorious leader. (R) Jepthah approached, seated in a 
brazen chariot (R) surrounded by his steel clad warriors. (R) 
His robe of blue embroidered with gold, (R) was bound by a 
broad girdle of golden mail, (R) a sword hung in chains from 
his side, and shoes of brass defended his feet, (R) a scarlet 
mantle fell from his shoulders, and around his head (R) was a 
band of steel chain-work, from which, projected in front, (R) a 
horn of gold, giving him a fierce and terrible appearance. (R) 
When the procession arrived before the house of Jepthah (R) 
the gate was thrown open, and a group of young girls came 
dancing forth, (R) mingling their jocund music with the cheers 
of the populace. (R) What saw the conqueror in yon joyous 
train, (R) that he started as if a shot from the enemy's archers 
had stricken him ! — (R) why bowed his lofty head unto his 
bosom ? (R) At the head of the youthful train came the hero's 



MANAGEMENT OF THE BREATH. 



31 



daughter, his only child, (E) holding aloft the sweet sounding 
timbrel, and attired as became a ruler's daughter, (R) in a robe 
of divers colors, richly embroidered (R) with gorgeous feather- 
work, and gold, and silk of varied dyes. (R) A fillet of white 
roses bound her dark tresses, (R) and her tiny feet were 
strapped in scarlet sandals, (R) Smiles lighted up her fair 
face, and her soft dove's eyes (R) beamed with filial tender- 
ness (R) when raised to her lordly father. 

(R) Behind her, were the maidens of Gilead, clad in white, 
with chaplets of red roses; (R) their slender ancles circled 
with silver bells. (R) Like leaves from a gay parterre* swept 
onward by a summer breeze, (R) these lovely flow'rets floated 
in mazy wnirls vR) until beside the chariot of the conqueror. 
(R) The daughter of Jepthah approached her father, (R) and 
when the people looked to see him fold her in his embrace (R) 
with a frantic start, he rent the bosom of his gilded robe, (R) 
and covering his head with his mantle (R) he groaned with 
anguish. (R) " My father !" said a gentle voice beside him. 
(R) " Alas, my daughter !" (R) cried the conqueror, with a burst 
of agony (R ) — " From my high estate of joy thou hast brought 
me low down in the dust !" (R) There was deep silence 
while he spoke — " God, forgive me ! (R) my child, forgive 
me ! (R) When I faced the children of Amnion in battle, (R) I 
vowed, if the Lord would deliver them into my hands, (R) I 
would offer up, as sacrifice unto him, (R) the first that came 
forth from my house to meet me ! (R) Thou art the first — my 
child ! my only one !" 

(R) A deep consternation fell upon the hearts of all, when 
this rash vow was heard — (R) on all, save upon that fair and 
gentle creature who was the victim. (R) With brow unblanch- 
ed, and with a glow of generous self-devotion, she said to 
Jepthah — " (R) My father, if thou hast opened thy mouth to 
the Lord, (R) do unto me as thou hast vowed. (R) Thy God 
hath made thee conqueror over thy enemies — (R) the children 
of Amnion have fallen before thee, (R) and if I am to be the 
price of victory, (R) take me and do unto me according to thy 
vow. (R) I die for my country and for my father — (R) in that 
death there is no bitterness." 



* Parterre pronounced partare—a, flower-garden. 



32 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



CHAPTER X, 



TWENTY-EIGHTH LESSON. 
GESTURE* 

Fig. i. 




A graceful and impressive action is one of the highest ac- 
complishments of the orator. So it was deemed by the cele- 
brated orators of Athens and Rome. Its importance gives it a 
just claim to the special attention of teachers of Elocution. But 
in a volume of this size, a full treatise on this subject cannot be 
expected. 

The following figures are designed to give the pupil a gene- 
ral idea of appropriate gestures, and to enable him to exercise 
his own taste and judgment, in the use of such other gestures, 
as may enforce and illustrate the various thoughts and senti- 
ments he may be called upon to utter 

SOME OF THE SIGNIFICANT GESTURES. 

The Head and Face. 
The hanging down of the head denotes shame or grief 
The holding of it up, pride or courage. 
To nod forward implies assent. 
To toss the head back, dissent. 

The inclination of the head implies bashfulness or languor 
The head is averted in dislike or horror. 
It V,ans forward in attention 



GESTURE. 



33 



The Eyes 
The eyes are raised in prayer. 
They weep in sorrow. 
They burn in anger. 
They are downcast or averted in anger 
They are cast on vacancy in thought. 

They are thrown in different directions in doubt and anxiety. 
The Arms. 

The arm is projected forward in authority. 
Both arms are spread extended in admiration. 
They are both held forward in imploring help 
They both fall suddenly in disappointment. 

TJie Hands. 

The hand on the head indicates pain or distress 

On the eyes, shame. 

On the lips, injunction of silence. 

On the breast, it appeals to conscience, or intimates strong 
internal emotion. 

The hand waves or flourishes in joy or contempt 

Both hands are held supine, applied or clasped in prayer. 

Both descend prone in blessing. 

They are clasped or wrung m affliction 

The Body 

The body, held erect, indicates steadiness and courage 
Thrown back, pride. 

Stooping forward, condescension or compassion. 

Bending, reverence or respect. 

Prostration, the utmost humility or abasement. 

The Lower Limbs. 
Their firm position signifies courage or obstinacy 
Bended knees, timidity or weakness. 
Frequent change, disturbed thoughts 
They advance in desire or courage. 
Retire in aversion or fear. 
Start in terror. 
Stamp in authority or anger. 
Kneel in submission and prayer. 



34 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



Fig. 2. 




In the second and third figures, the foot which is deeply 
shaded supports the principal part of the body, and that 
which is lightly shaded rests lightly upon the floor. The rest- 
ing foot moves first, in changing the position. 

The two feet in the centre of each figure, represent the 
starting point, or original position. The direction in which the 
feet move, is marked by dotted lines. The line in which the 
first foot moves is distinguished by a star. In each figure four 
steps may be made from each starting point or original posi- 
tion. 



GESTURE. 



35 




APPEALING TO CONSCIENCE. 



INTENSE GRIEF. 



86 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



Fig 9 




ADMIRATION OF SURROUNDING 
OBJECTS 



APPEALING TO HEAVEN. 



GESTURE, 



37 



Fig. 12. 



Fig. 13. 





JOY 



TRIUMPH 



Fig. 14. 



Fig 15 





MELANCHOLY 



DISTRESS 



4* 



38 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



Fig. 16. Fig. 17. 




" A widow cries, Be husband " This arm shall vindicate a 
to me, heaven." father's cause 

King John, act 3, sc 1 Grecian Daughter scene last 



Fig. 18. Fig. 19 




" See where she stands " Jehovah's arm snatched 

like Helen." from the waves and brings 

Fair Penitent, act 5, sc. 1. tO me my child." 

Douglas, act 3, se. 2. 



GESTURE. 



39 



TWENTY-NINTH LESSON. 

Note.— The little stars in each of the following figures show the place of the posi- 
tion of the hands in the preceding figure ; and the dotted lines show the direction of 
transition from one gesture to another. But it may not be advisable to aim at precise 
imitation in making the transitions. These lines, as well as the figures to which 
they are attached, are designed to serve only as a general guide. 



THE MISER AND PLUTUS. 



Fig. 20. Fig. 21. 




The wind was high- the window shakes; 



Fig. 22. Fig. 23 




With sudden start the miser Along the silent room he 
wakes ! stalks ; 



40 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 






GESTURE 



41 



Fig. 30 



Fig* 31. 




But now with sudden 
qualms possest, 




He wrings his hands; he 
beats his breast — 



Fig. 32 



Fig. 33. 




By conscience stung, he 
wildly stares ; 




And thus his guilty soul 
declares : 



Fig. 34. 



Fig. 35 




Had the deep earth her 
stores confm'd, 
5* 




This heart had known 
sweet peace of mind ; 



42 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

Fig. 36. Fig. 37. 




But virtue's sold ' 



Fig. 38. 




Good gods ! what price 

Fig. 39. 




Can recompense the pangs 
of vice ? 




O bane of good ! 
seducing cheat I 



Fig- 40. 



Fig. 41. 





Can man, weak man, 



thy power defeat ? 



GESTURE. 



43 



Fig. 42. 



Fig. 43. 




Gold banish'd honor from 
the mind, 



Fig. 44. 




Gold sow'd the world with 
ev'ry ill ; 

Fig. 46. 





And only left the name 
behind; 



Fig. 45 




Gold taught the murd'rer's 
sword to kill : 




'Twas gold instructed coward In treach'ry's more 

hearts pernicious arts, 



44 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



Fig. 49. 





Who can recount the 
mischiefs o'er ? 



Virtue resides on 
earth no more ! 



THE SAME WITHOUT THE FIGURES 

The wind was high — the window shakes ; 

With sudden start the miser wakes ! 

Along the silent room he stalks ; 

Looks back, and trembles as he walks ! 

Each lock, and every bolt he tries, 

In ev'ry creek and corner pries ; 

Then opes his chest, with treasure stor'd, 

And stands in rapture o'er his hoard : 

But now with sudden qualms possest, 

He wrings his hands ; he beats his breast — 

By conscience stung, he wildly stares ; 

And thus his guilty soul declares : 

Had the deep earth her stores confin'd, 

This heart had known sweet peace of mind ; 

But virtue's sold ! good gods ! what price 

Can recompense the pangs of vice ' 

bane of good ! seducing cheat ! 

Can man, weak man, thy power defeat ? 

Gold banish'd honor from the mind, 

And only left the name behind ; 

Gold sow'd the world with ev'ry ill; 

Gold taught the murd'rer's sword to kill * 

'Twas gold instructed coward hearts 

In treach'ry's more pernicious arts. 

Who can recount the mischiefs o'er ? 

Virtue resides on earth no more ! 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 



45 



CHAPTER XI. 

SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 

Note. — In the following Selections the sign of the Rhetorical Pause is made in 
most of the places authorized by the Rules of Rhetorical Punctuation. A strict atten- 
tion to these pauses will conduce greatly to the pupil's improvement in Elocution. — 
The Sections are made short to accommodate young pupils, and those who may not 
wish to commit to memory a whole Lesson. 

THIRTIETH LESSON. 
speech of james otis. — Francis. 
Section 1. 

England | may as well dam up the waters of the Nile | with 
bulrushes, as to fetter the step of freedom, more proud and 
firm | in this youthful land, than where she treads the seques- 
tered* glens of Scotland, or couches herself | among the mag- 
nificent mountains | of Switzerland. Arbitrary principles, like 
those against which Ave now contend, have cost one king of 
England his life, another his crown, and they may yet cost a 
third his most flourishing colonies. 

We are two millions — one-fifth fighting men. We are bold 
and vigorous, and w T e call no man master. To the nation, 
from whom we are proud to derive our origin, we ever were, 
and we ever will be, ready to yield unforced assistance; but it 
must not, and it never can be extorted, f 

Some have sneeringly asked, " Are the Americans too poor 
to pay a few pounds on stamped paper No ! America, 
thanks to God and herself, is rich. But the right to take ten 
pounds, implies the right to take a thousand ; and what must 
be the wealth, that avarice, aided by power, cannot exhaust ? 
True, the spectre J is now small ; but the shadow | he casts 
before him | is huge enough to darken all this fair land 
Others, in sentimental style, talk of the immense debt of grati- 
tude | which we owe to England. And what is the amount 
of this debt ? Why, truly, it is the same that the young lion 
owes to the dam, which has brought it forth | on the solitude 

* Sequestered, secluded — at a distance from other inhabited places 

t Extorted, gained by force. % Spectre, an apparition— a ghost. 



46 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



of the mountain, or left it j amid the winds and storms of the 
desert. 

Section 2. 

We plunged into the wave, with the great charter of freedom 
in our teeth, because the fagot and torch were behind us. We 
have waked the new world from its savage lethargy ;* forests 
have been prostrated I in our path; towns and cities have 
grown up suddenly I as the flowers of the tropics,! and the 
fires | in our autumnal woods | are scarcely more rapid than 
the increase of our wealth | and population. And do we owe 
all this | to the kind succor of the mother country? No ! we 
owe it to the tyranny | that drove us from her | to the pelting 
storms | which invigorated our helpless infancy 

But perhaps others will say, "We ask no money | from your 
gratitude— we only demand | that you should pay your own 
expenses." And who, I pray, is to judge of their necessity ? 
Why, the king — (and with all due reverence | to his sacred 
majesty, he understands the real wants j of his distant sub- 
jects, as little | as he does the language of the Choctaws.) 
Who is to judge | concerning the frequency of these demands? 
The ministry. Who is to judge | whether the money | is pro- 
perly expended ? The cabinet | behind the throne. In every 
instance, those who take are to judge | for those who pay; if 
this system | is suffered to go into operation, we shall have 
reason to esteem it a great privilege, that rain and dew | do 
not depend upon Parliament; otherwise | they would soon be 
taxed and dried. 

But thanks to God there is freedom enough left upon earth | 
to resist such monstrous injustice. The flame of liberty | is 
extinguished! | in Greece and Rome, but the light of its glowing 
embers | is still bright and strong | on the shores of America. 
Actuated by its sacred influence, we will resist | unto death. 
But we will not countenance anarchy§ and misrule. The 
wrongs, that a desperate community | have heaped upon their 
enemies, shall be amply and speedily repaired. Still, it may 
be well | for some proud men to remember, that a fire is lighted | 
in these colonies, which one breath of their king | may kindle 
into such fury, that the blood of all England | cannot extinguish it. 



* Lethargy, stupidity, dulness. 

t Tropics, warm countries near the equator. 



X Extinguished, put out, quenched. 
§ Anarchy, want of government. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 



47 



THIRTY-FIRST LESSON. 

THE AMERICAN INDIANS.—— SpVdgUC* 
Section 1. 

Roll back the tide of time. Not many generations ago, 
where you now sit, circled with all that exalts and embellishes* 
civilized life, the rank thistle nodded in the wind, and the wild 
fox | dug his hole | unscared. Here lived and loved | another 
race of beings. Beneath the same sun | that rolls over your 
heads, the Indian hunter pursued the panting deer ; gazing on 
the same moon | that smiles for you, the Indian lover wooed 
his dusky mate. Here the wigwam blaze | beamed on the 
tender and helpless, the council fire glared | on the wise and 
daring. Now they dipped their noble limbs | in your sedgy f 
lakes, and now they paddled the light canoe | along your 
rocky shores. Here they warred ; the echoing whoop, the 
bloody grapple, the defying death-song, all were here; and 
when the tiger strife was over, here curled the smoke of peace. 
Here, too, they worshipped ; and | from many a dark bosom | 
w T ent up a pure prayer to the Great Spirit. He had not written 
his laws for them | on tables of stone, but He had traced them 
| on the tables of their hearts. 

Section 2. 

The poor child of nature | knew not the God of revelation, 
but the God of the universe | he acknowledged | in everything 
around. He beheld him | in the star that sunk in beauty | be- 
hind his lonely dwelling; in the sacred orb | that flamed on 
him | from his midday throne ; in the flower that snapped | in 
the morning breeze ; in the lofty pine, that defied a thousand 
whirlwinds ; in the timid warbler | that never left its native 
grove ; in the fearless eagle, whose untired pinion was wet in 
clouds ; in the worm | that crawled at his foot ; and in his own 
matchless form, glowing with a spark of that light, to whose 
mysterious source he bent, in humble, though blind adoration. 

And all this has passed away Across the ocean | came a 



* Embellishes, makes beautiful. 



f Sedgy, overgrown with flags. 



48 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

pilgrim bark, bearing the seeds of life and death. The former 
| were sown for yoa ; the latter | sprang up in the path of the 
simple native. Two hundred years j have changed the char- 
acter | of a great continent, and blotted for ever | from its face 
| a whole peculiar people. Art has usurped the bowers of 
nature, and the anointed children of education | have been too 
powerful | for the tribes of the ignorant. Here and there a 
stricken few remain, but how unlike their bold, untameable 
progenitors !* 

Section 3. 

The Indian, of falconf glance, and lion bearing, the theme of 
the touching ballad, the hero of the pathetic tale, is gone ; and 
his degraded offspring | crawl upon the soil | where he walked 
in majesty, to remind us how miserable is man J when the foot 
of the conqueror | is on his neck. 

As a race, they have withered from the land. Their arrows 
are broken, their springs are dried up, their cabins are in the 
dust. Their council fire | has long since gone out on the 
shore, and their war-cry | is fast dying | to the untrodden west. 
Slowly and sadly | they climb the distant mountains, and read 
their doom | in the setting sun. They are shrinking before the 
mighty tide | which is pressing them away ; they must soon 
hear the roar | of the last wave, which will settle over them | 
for ever. Ages hence, the inquisitive:): white man, as he stands 
by some growing city, will ponder j on the structure of their 
disturbed remains, and wonder | to what manner of person 
they belonged. They will live only | in the songs and chro-* 
nicies | of their exterminators. § Let these be faithful | to their 
rude virtues | as men, and pay due tribute | to their unhappy 
fate | as a people. 

* Progenitors, forefathers. 

T Falcon, pronounced fawk'n— like a hawk. 

t Inquisitive, inquiring with curiosity. 

§ Exterminators, those who drove them away 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 



49 



THIRTY-SECOND LESSON. 
LAFAYETTE. SpVdgUe. 

Section 1. 

While we bring our offerings | for the mighty of our own 
land, shall we not remember the chivalrous* spirits of other 
shores, who shared with them the hour of weakness and wo ? 
Pile to the clouds the majestic columns of glory, let the lips of 
those | who can speak well, hallow each spot | where the 
bones of your Bold repose ; but forget not those | who with 
your Bold | went out to battle. 

Among these men of noble daring, there was One, a young 
and gallantf stranger, who left the blushing vine-hills | of his 
delightful France. The people whom he came to succor, 
were not his people ; he knew them only | in the wicked story 
of their wrongs. He was no mercenary wretch, striving for 
the spoil of the vanquished ; the palace acknowledged him for 
its lord, and the valley yielded him its increase. He was no 
nameless man, staking life for reputation; he ranked among 
nobles, and looked unawed upon kings. He was no friendless 
outcast, seeking for a grave | to hide his cold heart; he was 
girdled | by the companions of his childhood, his kinsmen 
were about him, his wife was before him. 

Section 2. 

Yet from all these he turned away, and came. Like a loity 
free, that shakes down its green glories | to battle with the 
winter storm, he flung aside the trappings^ of place and pride, 
to crusade for freedom, in freedom's holy land. He came — 
but not in the day of successful rebellion, not when the new- 
risen sun of independence | had burst the cloud of time, and 
careered to its place in the heavens. He came | when dark- 
ness curtained the hills, and the tempest was abroad in its 
anger; when the plough stood still | in the field of promise, 
and briers cumbered the garden of beauty; when fathers were 
dying, and mothers were weeping over them; when the wife 



* Chivalrous, brave, 
r Gallant, brave. 

5 



1 Trappings, ornaments. 



50 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



was binding up the gashed bosom of her husband, and the 
maiden was wiping the death damp | from the brow of her 
lover. He came | when the brave began to fear the power of 
man, and the pious | to doubt the favor of God. 

It was then | that this One joined the ranks of a revolted* 
people. Freedom's little phalanx f bade him a grateful wel- 
come. With them he courted the battle's rage, with their's his 
arm was lifted ; with their's his blood was shed. Long and 
doubtful was the conflict. At length kind heaven smiled | on 
the good cause, and the beaten invaders fled. The profane 
were driven | from the temple of liberty, and | at her pure 
shrine | the pilgrim warrior, with his adored commander, knelt 
and worshipped. Leaving there his offering, the incense of an 
uncorrupted spirit, he at length rose up, and, crowned with 
benedictions, turned his happy feet | towards his long-deserted 
home 

Section 3. 

After nearly fifty years | that One has come again. Can 
mortal tongue tell, can mortal heart feel, the sublimity of that 
coming ? Exulting millions rejoice in it, and then loud, long, 
transporting shout, like the mingling of many winds, rolls on, 
undying, to freedom's farthest mountains. A congregated na- 
tion comes round him. Old men bless him, and children rever- 
ence him. The lovely come out to look upon him, the learned 
deck their halls to greet him, the rulers of the land rise up to do 
him homage. How his full heart labors I He views the rust- 
ing trophies of departed days, he treads the high places | where 
his brethren moulder, he bends | before the tomb of his "Fa- 
ther :" — his words are tears : the speech of sad remembrance. 
But he looks round ( upon a ransomed land | and a joyous race ; 
he beholds the blessings | those trophies secured, for which 
those brethren died, for which that " Father" lived ; and again 
his words are tears ; the eloquence of gratitude and joy. 

Spread forth creation like a map ; bid earth's dead multitude 
revive ; — and of all the pageant splendors | that ever glittered 
to the sun, when looked his burning eye | on a sight like this ? 



* Revolted, rebellious, that had renounced allegiance to their king, 
t Phalanx, a body of soldiers. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 



51 



Of all the myriads | that have come and gone, what cherished 
minion | ever ruled an hour like this ? Many have struck the 
redeeming blow | for their own freedom ; but who, like this 
man, has bared his bosom | in the cause of strangers ? Others 
have lived | in the love of their own people, but who, like this 
man, has drank his sweetest cup of welcome | with another ? 
Matchless chief ! of glory's immortal tablets, there is one for him, 
for him alone ! Oblivion shall never shroud its splendor ; the 
everlasting flame of liberty | shall guard it, that the generations 
of men | may repeat the name recorded there, the beloved 
name | of La Fayette ! 

THIRTY-THIRD LESSON. 

ENGLISH TAXES. 
Edinburgh Review. 

Section 1. 

Permit me to inform you, my friends, what are the inevita- 
ble consequences | of being too fond of glory ; — Taxes — upon 
every article | which enters into the mo nth, or covers the back, 
or is placed under the foot — taxes upon everything | which is 
pleasant to see, hear, feel, smell, or taste — taxes upon warmth, 
light, and locomotion* — taxes on everything on earth, and the 
waters under the earth — on everything that comes from 
abroad, or is grown at home — taxes on the raw material — 
taxes on every fresh value | that is added to it | by the indus- 
try of man — taxes on the sauce | which pampers man's appe- 
tite, and the drug | which restores him to health — on the er- 
mine* | which decorates the judge, and the rope which hangs 
the criminal — on the poor man's salt, and the rich man's spice 
— on the brass nails of the coffin, and the ribands of the 
bride. * * * * 

Section 2. 

The school-boy | whips his taxed top — the beardless youth 
j manages his taxed horse, with a taxed bridle, | on a taxed 
road ; — and the dying Englishman | pouring his medicine 



* Locomotion, act of moving from one phsce to another, 
t Er mine, the fur of an animal called the Ermine. 



52 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



which has paid seven per cent, into a spoon | that has paid 
fifteen per cent. — flings himself back | upon his chintz bed | 
which has paid twenty-two per cent. — makes his will | on an 
eight pound stamp, and expires | in the arms of an apothecary, 
who has paid a license of a hundred pounds | for the privilege 
| of putting him to death. His whole property | is then im- 
mediately taxed | from two to ten per cent. Besides the pro- 
bate, large fees are demanded for burying him | in the chancel ; 
his virtues are handed down to posterity | on taxed marble , 
and he is then gathered to his fathers, — to be taxed no more. 



THIRTY-FOURTH LESSON. 
south Carolina. — Haynes. 

Section V. 

If there be one state in the Union, Mr. President (and I say 
it not in a boastful spirit), that may challenge comparison | 
with any other for a uniform, zealous, ardent, and uncalculat- 
ing devotion to the Union, that state | is South Carolina. Sir, 
from the very commencement of the revolution | up to this 
hour, there is no sacrifice, however great, she has not cheer- 
fully made ; no service | she has ever hesitated to perform. 
She has adhered to you | in your prosperity, but in your ad- 
versity she has clung to you | with more than filial affection. 
No matter | what was the condition of her domestic* affairs, 
though deprived of her resources, divided by parties, or sur- 
rounded by difficulties, the call of the country | has been to 
her | as the voice of God. Domestic discordf ceased | at the 
sound — every man became at once | reconciled to his brethren, 
and the sons of Carolina | were all seen | crowding together to 
the temple, bringing their gifts to the altar | of their common 
country. What, sir, was the conduct of the south | during the 
revolution? Sir, I honor New England for her conduct | in 
that glorious struggle : but great as is the praise | which be- 
longs to her, I think at least | equal honor is due to the south. 



* Domestic, belonging to home. 

t Domestic discord, discord in our own country. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 



53 



They espoused* the quarrel of their brethren | with generous 
zeal, which did not suffer them to stop | to calculate their in- 
terest in the dispute. Favorites of the mother country, pos- 
sessed of neither ships nor seamen | to create commercial 
rivalship, they might have found | in their situation a guaranty 
| that their trade would be for ever fostered | and protected by 
Great Britain. But trampling on all considerations, either of 
interest or of safety, they rushed into the conflict, and fighting 
for principle, periled all in the sacred cause of freedom. Never 
was there exhibited | in the history of the world | higher 
examples of noble daring, dreadful suffering, and heroic endur- 
ance, than by the whigs of Carolina | during that revolution. 
The whole state, from the mountain to the sea, was overrun 
by an overwhelming force of the enemy. The fruits of indus- 
try perished | on the spot | where they were produced, or 
were consumed by the foe. The " plains of Carolina" drank 
up the most precious blood of her citizens — black and smoking 
ruins | marked the places | which had been the habitations of 
her children ! Driven from their homes | into the gloomy and 
almost impenetrable swamps, even there the spirit of liberty 
survived! and South Carolina, sustained by the example of her 
Sumpters and her Marions, proved by her conduct, that | 
though her soil might be overrun, the spirit of her people j 
was invincible 4 



THIRTY-FIFTH LESSON. 

Massachusetts. — Webster. 
Section 1. 

The eulogium§ pronounced | on the character of the state of 
South Carolina | by the honorable gentleman, for her revo- 
lutionary and other merits, meets my hearty concurrence. || I 
shall not acknowledge | that the honorable member goes be- 
fore me | in regard for whatever of distinguished talent, or dis- 
tinguished character, South Carolina has produced. I claim 



* Espoused, united in. 

| Survived, remained alive. 

% Invincible, not to be conquered. 



|| Eulogium, praise. 
§ Concurrence, assent. 



54 ELOCUTION MADE EASY 

part of the honor : I partake in the pride of her great names. 
I claim them for countrymen, one and all. The Laurenses, 
Rutledges, the Pinckneys, the Sumpters, the Marions — Amer- 
icans all — whose fame is no more to be hemmed in | by state 
lines, than their talents and patriotism were capable of being 
circumscribed* | within the same narrow limits. 

In their day and generation | they served and honored the 
country, and the whole country, and their renown is of the 
treasures of the whole country. Him, whose honored name 
the gentleman bears himself — does he suppose me less capable 
of gratitude for his patriotism, or sympathy for his sufferings, 
than if his eyes had first opened | upon the light in Massachu- 
setts | instead of South Carolina ? Sir, does he suppose it in 
his power | to exhibit a Carolina name so bright | as to pro- 
duce envy in my bosom ? No, sir, — increased gratification and 
delight, rather. Sir, I thank God, that if I am gifted with little 
of the spirit | which is said to be able to raise mortals to the 
skies, I have yet none, as I trust, of that other spirit, which 
would drag angels down. 

Section 2. 

When I shall be found, sir, in my place here in the senate, 
or elsewhere, to sneer at public merit, because it happened to 
spring up ( beyond the little limits of my own state and neigh- 
borhood ; when I refuse, for any such cause, or for any cause, 
the homage due to American talent, to elevated patriotism^ to 
sincere devotion to liberty and the country ; or if I see an un- 
common endowment of heaven — if I see extraordinary capa- 
city and virtue in any son of the south — and if, moved by local 
prejudice, or gangrened % by state jealousy, I get up here to 
abate the tithe of a hair | from his just character and just fame, 
may my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth ! 

Sir, let me recur to pleasing recollections — let me indulge in 
refreshing remembrances of the past — let me remind you | that 
in early times no states cherished greater harmony, both of prin- 
ciple and of feeling, than Massachusetts and South Carolina. 
Would to God | that harmony might again return. Shoulder 



* Circumscribed, enclosed, 
t Patriotism, love of country 



t Gangrened, mortified, corrupted. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 



55 



Co shoulder | they went through the revolution — hand in hand 
j they stood round the administration of Washington, and felt 
his own great arm lean on them | for support. Unkind feel- 
ing, if it exist, alienation* and distrust are the growth, un- 
natural to such soils, of false principles since sown. They 
are weeds, the seeds of which that same great arm never scat- 
tered. 

Section 3. 

Mr. President, I shall enter on nq encomiumf upon Massa- 
chusetts — she needs none. There she is — behold her and 
judge for yourselves. There is her history — the world knows 
it by heart. The past, at least, is secure. There is Boston, 
and Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker's Hill ; and there they 
will remain for ever. The bones of her sons, fallen in the 
great struggle for independence, now lie mingled | with the 
soil of every state, from New England to Georgia ; and there 
they will lie for ever. 

And, sir, where American liberty raised its first voice, and 
where its youth was nurturedf and sustained, there it still lives, 
in the strength of its manhood, and full of its original spirit. 
If discord and disunion shall wound it, if party strife and 
blind ambition shall hawk at and tear it ; if folly and madness, 
if uneasiness, under salutary § and necessary restraint, shall 
succeed to separate it J from that Union, by which alone its 
existence is made sure, it will stand, in the end, by the side of 
that cradle | in which its infancy was rocked ; it will stretch 
forth its arm | with whatever of vigor it may still retain, over 
the friends | who gather round it: and it will fall at last, if 
fall it must, amidst the proudest monuments of its own glory, 
and on the very spot of its origin. 



* Alienation, change of affection, 
t Encomium, praise 



% Nurtured, nourished, cherished. 
§ Salutary, safe, promoting good 



56 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



THIRTY-SIXTH LESSON. 

SPEECH AGAINST THE AMERICAN WAR, AND THE EMPLOY- 
MENT of Indians in it. — Chatham. 

Section 1. 

I cannot, my lords, I will not, join in congratulation* | on 
misfortune and disgrace. This, my lords, is a perilous! and 
tremendous moment. It is not a time for adulation ?$ the 
smoothness <5f flattery | cannot save us | in this rugged and 
awful crisis. § It is now necessary to instruct the throne j| | in 
the language of truth. We must, if possible, dispel the delu- 
sion and darkness | which envelope it, and display, in its full 
danger and genuine colors, the ruin which is brought to our 
doors. Can ministers still presume to expect support | in their 
infatuation ?ir Can Parliament be so dead to its dignity and 
duty as to give their support to measures j thus obtruded and 
forced upon them ? Measures, my lords, which have reduced 
this late flourishing empire to scorn and contempt ! But yes- 
terday, and Britain might have stood | against the world ; now 
" none so poor as to do her reverence !"** 

Section 2. 

The people, whom we at first despised as rebels, but whom 
we now acknowledge as enemies, areabettedfj against us, sup- 
plied with every military store, have their interest consulted, 
and their ambassadors entertained, by our inveterate enemy — 
and ministers do not, and dare not interpose^ with dignity or 
effect. The desperate state of our army abroad | is in part 
known. No man more highly esteems and honors the British 
troops | than I do; I know their virtues and their valor ;§§ I 
know they can achieve [||| anything ] but impossibilities; and I 
know | that the conquest of British America | is an impossi- 

* Congratulation, a wishing of joy. ** .Reference, veneration, respect. 

t Perilous, full of danger. ft Abetted, encouraged, aided, supported. 

X Adulation, flattery, praise. J| Interpose, interfere. 

§ Crisis ', a critical time. §§ Valor, courage. 

II Throne, the seat of the king. III! Achieve, perform. 

t Infatuation, deprivation of reason, folly. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 



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bility. You cannot, my lords, you cannot conquer America. 
What is your present situation there ? We do not know the 
worst; but we know | that in three campaigns | we have-done 
nothing, and suffered much. 

You may swell every expense, accumulate* every assistance, 
and extend your traffic | to the shambles of every German 
despot ; your attempts will be for ever vain and impotentf— 
doubly so, indeed, from this mercenaryt aid | on which you 
rely ; for it irritates to an incurable resentment, the minds of 
your adversaries, § to overrun them | with the mercenary sons 
of rapine || and plunder, devoting them and their possessions | 
to the rapacity of hireling cruelty. If I were an American, as 
I am an Englishman, while a foreign troop was landed in my 
country, I never would lay down my arms — never, never, 
never ! 

Section 3. 

But, my lords, who is the man that, in addition to the dis- 
graces and mischiefs of the war, has dared to authorize and 
associate | to our arms | the tomahawk and scalping-knife of 
the savage ? — to call into civilized alliance, the wild and inhu- 
man inhabitant of the woods? — to delegate | to the merciless 
Indian | the defence of disputed rights, and to wage the hor- 
rors of his barbarous war | against our brethren ? My lords, 
these enormitiesH cry aloud | for redress and punishment. But, 
my lords, this barbarous measure | has been defended, not 
only | on the principles of policy and necessity, but also | on 
those of morality ; " for it is perfectly allowable/ 5 says Lord 
Suffolk, " to use all the means | which God and nature have 
put into our hands." I am astonished, I am shocked, to hear 
such principles confessed; to hear them avowed** in this 
house, or in this country. 

* Accumulate, collect together. 

f Impotent, weak. 

% Mercenary, hired. 

§ Adversary, an opponent, an enemy. 

II Rapine, plunder, violence. 

IT Enormities, great crimes, acts of great wickedness. 
** Avowed, declared openly. 



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ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



Section 4. 

My lords, I did not intend to encroach* so much | on your 
attention, but I cannot repressf my indignation — I feel myself 
impelled to speak. My lords, we are called upon | as mem- 
bers of this house, as men, as Christians, to protest against 
such horrible barbarity ! — " That God and nature have put into 
our hands !" What ideas of God and nature | that lord may 
entertain, I know not ; but T know, that such detestable prin- 
ciples | are equally abhorrent | to religion and humanity. 
What ! to attribute the sacred sanction of God and nature | to 
the massacres of the Indian scalp ing-knife ! to the cannibalf sav- 
age, torturing, murdering, devouring his mangled victims! 
Such notions | shock every precept of morality, every feeling 
of humanity, every sentiment of honor. These abominable 
principles, and this more abominable avowal of them, demand 
the most decisive indignation 

Section 5 

I call upon that right reverend, and this most learned bench, 
to vindicate the religion of their God, to support the justice of 
their country. I call upon the bishops | to interpose the un- 
sullied§ sanctity of their lawn ; upon the judges to interpose 
the purity of their ermine, to save us from this pollution. | I 
call upon the honor of your lordships, to reverence the digni- 
ty of your ancestors, and to maintain your own. I call upon 
the spirit and humanity of my country, to vindicate the national 
character. . I invoke the genius of the constitution. 

To send forth the merciless cannibal, thirsting for blood ! 
against whom ? — your Protestant brethren ! — to lav waste their 
country, to desolate their dwellings, and extirpate their race 
and name, by the aid and instrumentality | of these horrible 
hounds of war! Spain | can no longer boast pre-eminence|| 
in barbarity. She | armed herself with bloodhounds, to extir- 
pated the wretched natives of Mexico; we, more ruthless, 
loose these dogs of war | against our countrymen in America, 
endeared to us | by every tie j that can sanctify** humanity. 



* Encroach, intrude, 
t Repress, restrain. 

% Cannibal, one that eats human flesh. 
§ Unsullied, not stained, pure. 



|j Pre-eminence, superiority. 

Extirpate, root out, destroy. 
** Sanctify, to make sacred. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 



59 



I solemnly call upon your lordships, and upon every order 
of men j in the state, to stamp | upon this infamous procedure 
| the indelible* stigmaf | of the public abhorrence. More 
particularly, I call upon the holy prelatesj of our religion | to 
do away this iniquity ; let them perform a lustration, to purify 
the country | from this deep and deadly sin. My lords, I am 
old and weak, and at present unable to say more ; but my 
feelings and indignation | were too strong to have said less. I 
could not have slept this night in my bed, nor even reposed 
my head | upon my pillow, without giving vent | to my eternal 
abhorrence of such enormous§ | and preposterous j| principles. 



THIRTY-SEVENTH LESSON. 

SPEECH IN FAVOR OF WAR WITH ENGLAND. Patrick 

Henry. 
Section 1 

Mr. President, it is natural to man | to indulge in the illu- 
sionsH of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes | against a pain- 
ful truth, and listen to the song of that siren,** till she transforms 
us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great 
and arduousff struggle for liberty ? Are we disposed to be of 
the number of those who, having eyes, see not, and having 
ears, hear not, the things | which so nearly concern our tem- 
poral salvation ? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it 
may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth ; to know 
the worst, and to provide for it. 

I have but one lamp, by which my feet are guided ; and 
that | is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging 
of the future | but by the past. And judging by the past, I 
wish to know | what there has been | in the conduct of the 
British ministry | for the last ten years, to justify those hopes | 
with which gentlemen have been pleased to solaceJt them- 
selves and the house. Is it that insidious§§ smile | with which 



* Indelible, that cannot be blotted out. 

f Stigma, mark of disgrace. 

} Prelates, archbishops, or bishops 

§ Enormous, very wicked. 

U Preposterous, absurd. 



IT Illusions, deceptive appearances. 

** Siren, a goddess noted for singing. 

ft Arduous, difficult. 

X% Solace, comfort. 

§§ Insidious, deceptive. 



60 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



our petition | has been lately received? Trust it not, sir; it 
will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be 
betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves | how this gracious re- 
ception of our petition | comports with those warlike prepara- 
tions | which cover our waters and darken our land. Are 
fleets and armies | necessary to a work of love and reconcilia- 
tion ? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled, 
that force must be called in | to win back our love ? 

Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These | are the imple- 
ments* of war and subjugation ;f the last arguments | to which 
kings resort. 

Section 2 

I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martialf array, if its 
purpose be not to force us to submission ? Can gentlemen as- 
sign any other possible motive for it ? Has Great Britain | any 
enemy in this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumu- 
lation of navies and armies ? No, sir, she has none. They 
are meant for us : they can be meant for no other. They are 
sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains, which the 
British ministry | have been so long forging. And what have 
we to oppose to them ? Shall we try argument ? Sir, we 
have been trying that | for the last ten years. Have we any- 
thing new to offer upon the subject ? Nothing. We have held 
the subject up j in every light | of which it is capable ; but it 
has been all in vain. 

Shall we resort to entreaty | and humble supplication ! 
What terms shall we find | which have not already been ex- 
hausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves 
longer. Sir, we have done everything | that could be done> 
to avert the storm | which is now coming on. We have pe- 
titioned, we have remonstrated, % we have supplicated, we 
have prostrated ourselves | before the throne, and have im- 
plored its interposition | to arrest the tyrannical hand of the 
ministryandparliament.il Our petitions have been slighted; 

* Implements, instruments. 

t Subjugation, the act of conquering or enslaving, 
t Martial, warlike. 

§ Remonstrate, to urge reasons against, to expostulate. 

I! Parliament, the legislature of Great Britain, composed of the House of Lords and 
the House of Commons. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 



61 



our remonstrances have produced additional violence and 
insult ; our supplications have been disregarded ; and we have 
been spurned with contempt | from the foot of the throne. 

In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of 
peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for 
hope. If we wish to be free, if we mean to preserve inviolate* 
those inestimable privileges | for which we have been so long 
contending, if we mean not basely to abandon the noble strug- 
gle | in which we have been so long engaged, and which we 
have pledged ourselves never to abandon | until the glorious 
object of our contest | shall be obtained, we must fight; I re- 
peat it, sir, we must fight! An appeal to arms, and to the God 
of Hosts, is all that is left us ! 

Section 3. 

They tell us, sir, that we are vveak, unable to cope with so 
formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? 
Will it be next week, or the next year ? Will it be [ when we 
are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be sta- 
tioned in every house ? Shall we gather strength by irresolu- 
tion and inaction ? Shall we acquire the means of effectual 
resistance, by lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the 
delusive f phantom} of hope, until our enemies shall have 
bound us | hand and foot ? Sir, we are not weak, if we make 
a proper use | of those means | which the God of nature | hath 
placed in our power. Three millions of people, armed in the 
holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that | which 
we possess, are invincible by any force | which our enemy | 
can send against us. 

Besides, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a 
just God | who presides§ over the destinies l| of nations, and 
who will raise up friends | to fight our battles for us. The bat- 
tle, sir, is not to the strong alone ; it is to the vigilant,^ the ac- 
tive, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we are 
Dase enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the 
contest. There is no retreat, but in submission and slavery. 



* Inviolate, uninjured, 
t Delusive, deceptive. 
I Phantom, apparition, ghost. 



$ Presides over, controls, directs. 
|| Destinies, fates, 
IT Vigilant, watchful. 



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ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



Our chains are forged. Their clanking may be heard | on the 
plains of Boston. The war is inevitable,* and let it come ! 1 
repeat it, sir, let it come ! 

It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may 
cry peace, peace ! but there is no peace ! The war is actually 
begun! The next gale | that sweeps from the north | will 
bring to our ears | the clash of resounding arms ! Our breth- 
ren are already in the field ! Why stand we here idle ? What 
is it that gentlemen wish ? What would they have ? Is life 
so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of 
chains and slavery. * * * * I know not what course others may 
take ; but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death ! 



THIRTY-EIGHTH LESSON. 

SUPPOSED SPEECH OF JOHN ADAMS IN FAVOR OF THE 
DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE D. Webster. 

Section 1. 

Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I give my hand 
and my heart | to this vote ! It is true, indeed, that, in the be- 
ginning, we aimed not at independence. But there is a Divin- 
ity which shapes our ends. The injustice of England | has 
driven us to arms ; and, blinded to her own interest, for our 
good | she has obstinately persisted, till independence | is now 
within our grasp. We have but to reach forth to it, and it is 
ours. Why, then, should we defer the declaration ? Is any 
man so weak | as now to hope for a reconciliation with Eng- 
land, which shall leave either safety to the country and its 
liberties, or safety to his own life, and his own honor? Are 
not you, sir, who sit in that chair; is not he, our venerable 
colleague! near you ; are not both already the proscribed^ and 
predestined§ objects of punishment and of vengeance ? Cut 
off from all hope of royal clemency, what are you, what can 
you be, while the power of England remains, but outlaws ? 

* Inevitable, unavoidable, 

| Colleague, partner in office. 

% Proscribed, doomed, condemned. 

$ Predestined, predetermined, determined beforehand. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 



63 



Section 2. 

If we postpone independence, do we mean to carry on, or 
give up, the war ? Do we mean to submit to the measures of 
Parliament, Boston port-bill and all ? Do we mean to submit, 
and consent | that we ourselves shall be ground to powder, 
and our country | and its rights | trodden down in the dust ? 
I know we do not mean to submit. We never shall submit. 
Do we intend to violate that most solemn obligation | ever en- 
tered into by men — that plighting,* before God, of our sacred 
honor to Washington, when, putting him forth to incur the 
dangers of war, as well as the political hazardsf of the times, 
we promised to adhere to him, in every extremity, with our 
fortunes and our lives ? 

Section 3. 

I know there is not a man here, who would not rather see a 
general conflagration | sweep over the land, or an earthquake 
sink it, than one jot | or tittle | of that plighted faith fall to the 
ground. For myself, having twelve months ago, in this place, 
moved you, that George Washington be appointed commander 
of the forces, raised, or to be raised, for defence of American 
liberty, may my right hand forget its cunning, and my tongue 
cleave to the roof of my mouth, if I hesitate or waver | in the 
support I give him. The war, then, must go on. We must 
fight it through. 

Section 4. 

And if the war must go on, why put off longer the declara- 
tion of independence ? That measure will strengthen us. It 
will give us character abroad. The nations will then treaty 
with us, which they never can do, while we acknowledge our- 
selves subjects | in arms against our sovereign. Nay, I mam- 
tain that England, herself will sooner treat for peace with us | 
on the footing of independence, than consent, by repealing^ 
her acts, || to acknowledge that her whole conduct towards us | 
has been a course of injustice and oppression. Her pride will 
be less wounded | by submitting to that course of things | 



* Plighting, pledging. § Repealing, annulling, making void, 

f Hazards, dangers. || Acts, laws 

% Treat, negotiate, transact national business. 



64 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



which now predestines our independence, than by yielding 
the point in controversy | to her rebellious subjects. The for- 
mer she would regard | as the result of fortune ; the latter | 
she could feel j as her own deep disgrace. Why then, why 
then, sir, do we not, as soon as possible, change this from a 
civil* [ to a national war ? And, since we must fight it through, 
why not put ourselves in a state to enjoy all the benefits of 
victory, if we gain the victory ? 

Section 5. 

If we fail, it can be no worse for us. But we shall not fail. 
The cause | will raise up armies ; the cause j will create navies. 
The people, the people, if we are true to them, will carry us, 
and will carry themselves, gloriously through this struggle. 
I care not how fickle other people have been found. I know 
the people of these colonies ; and 1 know | that resistance to 
British aggressionf | is deep and settled in their hearts, and 
cannot be eradicated. Every colony, indeed, has expressed its 
willingness to follow, if we but take the lead. Sir, the decla- 
ration will inspire the people with increased courage. Instead 
of a long and bloody war | for restoration of privileges, for re- 
dress of grievances, for chartered:): immunities,§ held under a 
British king, set before them the glorious object of entire inde- 
pendence, and it will breathe into them anew | the breath of 
life. 

Section 6. 

Read this declaration at the head of the army ; every sword 
will be drawn from its scabbard, and the solemn vow uttered, 
to maintain it, or to perish on the bed of honor. Publish it 
from the pulpit ; religion will approve it, and the love of reli- 
gious liberty | will cling round it, resolved to stand or fa] 1 with 
it. Send it to the public halls ; proclaim it there ; let them 
hear it, who heard the first roar of the enemy's cannon ; let 
them see it, who saw their brothers and their sons | fall on the 
field of Bunker Hill, and in the streets of Lexington and Con- 
cord — and the very Avails | will cry out in its support. 

* Civil war, a war between people of the same country. 

t Aggression, acts of violence. 

% Chartered, granted by a king, or legislature. 

§ Immunities, privileges. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 



65 



Section 7. 

Sir, I know the uncertainty of human affairs ; but I see clear- 
ly through this day's business. You and I, indeed, may rue it. 
We may not live to see the time | when this declaration shall 
be made good. We may die; die, colonists; die, slaves; die, 
it may be, ignominiously, and on the scaffold. Be it so. Be it 
so. If it be the pleasure of heaven | that my country shall re- 
quire the poor offering of my life, the victim shall be ready | at 
the appointed hour of sacrifice, come when that hour may. 
But, while I do live, let me have a country, or at least the 
hope of a country, and that a free country. 

Section 8. 

But, whatever may be our fate, be assured | that this decla- 
ration | will stand. It may cost treasure, and it may cost 
blood ; but it will stand, and it will richly compensate for both. 
Through the thick gloom of the present, I see the brightness 
of the future, as the sun in heaven. We shall make this a 
glorious, an immortal day. When we are in our graves, our 
children will honor it. They will celebrate it, with thanksgiv- 
ing, with festivity, with bonfires, and illuminations. On its 
annual return | they will shed tears, copious, gushing tears* 
not of subjection and slavery, not of agony and distress, but of 
exultation, of gratitude, and of joy. Sir, before God, I believe 
the hour is come. My judgment approves this measure, and 
my whole heart is in it. — All that I have, and all that I am, 
and all that I hope, in this life, I am now ready here to stake 
upon it; and I leave off as I began, that live or die, survive or 
perish, I am for the declaration. It is my living sentiment, 
and, by the blessing of God, it shall be my dying sentiment;—* 

INDEPENDENCE NOW ; aild INDEPENDENCE FOR EVER ! 



66 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



THIRTY-NINTH LESSON. 

America. — C. Phillips. 

Section 1 

The mention of America | has never failed to fill me I with 
the most lively emotion. In my earliest youth, that tender 
season | when impressions, at once the most permanent and 
the most powerful, are likely to be excited, the story of her 
then recent struggle [ raised a throb in every heart | that lov- 
ed liberty, and wrung a reluctant tribute | even from discom- 
fited oppression. I saw her spurning alike the luxuries that 
would enervate,* and the legions | that would intimidate ;f 
dashing from her lips | the poisoned cup of European servi- 
tude ; and, through all the vicissitudes^ of her protracted§ con- 
flict, displaying a magnanimity || j that defied misfortune, a 
moderation | that gave new grace to victory. It was the first 
vision of my childhood ; it will descend with me to the grave. 
******** 

Section 2. 

Search creation round, where can you find a country | that 
presents so sublime a view, so interesting an anticipation ? 
What noble institutions ! What a comprehensive policy !1T 
What a wise equalization of every political advantage ! The 
oppressed of all countries, the martyrs** of every creed, ff the 
innocent victims^ of despotic arrogance§§ or superstitious 
frenzy, || || may there find a refuge ; his industry encouraged, his 
piety respected, his ambition animated ; with no restraint | but 
those laws, which are the same to all, and no distinction but 

* Ener'vate [accented on the second syllable], deprive of strength or vigor, weaken. 

f Intimidate, make fearful, frighten. 

± Vicissitudes, changes. 

§ Protracted, lengthened. 

j| Magnanimity, greatness of mind. 

U Policy, system of government. 

** Martyrs, those who are put to death for their opinions 
ft Creed, belief. 

%t Despotic, tyrannical, oppressive. 

Arrogance, haughtiness, 
ill Frenzy, madness. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 



67 



that, which his merit may originate. Who can deny | that the 
existence of such a country | presents a subject for human con- 
gratulation ! Who can deny, that its gigantic advancement | 
offers a field for the most rational conjecture ! At the end of 
the next century,* if she proceeds [ as she seems to promise, 
what a wondrous spectacle may she not exhibit ! Who shall 
say | for what purpose | a mysterious Providence may not 
have designed her ! Who shall say | that when, in its follies 
or its crimes, the old world may have interredf all the pride of 
its power, and all the pomp of its civilisation, human nature | 
may not find its destined renovation^ in the new ! 



For myself, I have no doubt of it. I have not the least 
doubt, that when our temples and our trophies | shall have 
mouldered into dust — when the glories of our name | shall 
be but the legend§ of tradition, and the light of our achieve- 
ments | only live in song, philosophy will rise again | in the 
sky of her Franklin, and glory rekindle | at the urn of her 
Washington. Is this the vision of a romantic fancy? Is it 
even improbable ? Is it half so improbable as the events, 
which | for the last twenty years | have rolled like successive || 
tides | over the surface of the European world, each erasinglT 
the impression | that preceded it ? 

Thousands upon thousands, Sir, I know there are, who will 
consider this supposition | as wild and whimsical; but they 
have dwelt | with little reflection | upon the records of the 
past. They have but ill-observed the never-ceasing progress 
of national rise | and national ruin. They form their judgment 
| on the deceitful stability of the present hour, never consid- 
ering the innumerable monarchies and republics, in former 
days, apparently as permanent, their very existence | become 
now the subjects of speculation** — I had almost said, of scep- 
ticism, ff 



I appeal to History ! Tell me, thou reverend chronicle rtf of 



Section 3. 



Section 4. 



* Century, a hundred years. 

t Interred, buried. 

% Renovation, renewal. 

§ Legend, fable. 

& Successive, following in order 



IT Erasing, blotting out. 
** Speculation, consideration, 
ft Scepticism, doubt. 
XX Chronicler, historian. 



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ELOCUTION MADE EASY . 



the grave, can all the illusions of ambition realized, can all the 
wealth of an universal commerce, can all the achievements of 
successful heroism, or all the establishments of this world's 
wisdom, secure to empire the permanency of its possessions ? 
Alas ! Troy thought so once ; yet the land of Priam lives only 
in song ! Thebes thought so once, yet her hundred gates 
have crumbled, and her very tombs | are but as the dust | they 
were vainly intended to commemorate. So thought Palmyra 
— where is she ? So thought the countries of Demosthenes 
and the Spartan, yet Leonidas | is trampled | by the timid 
slave, and Athens insulted | by the servile, mindless,* and 
enervatef Ottoman. In his hurried march Time has but look- 
ed | at their imagined immortalityj — and all their vanities, from 
the palace to the tomb, have, with their ruins, erased the very 
impression of his footsteps ! The days of their glory | are as 
if they had never been ; and the island, that was then a speck, 
rude and neglected | in the barren ocean, now rivals the 
ubiquity § of their commerce, the glory of their arms, the fame 
of their philosophy, the eloquence of their senate, and the in- 
spiration of their bards ! 

Who shall say, then, contemplating the past, that England, 
proud and potent | as she appears, may not one day be what 
Athens is, and the young America | yet soar to be what Athens 

WAS ? 

FORTIETH LESSON. 
rolla's address to the Peruvians. — Sheridan. 

Section 1. 

My brave associates — partners of my toil, my feelings, and 
my fame ! — can Rolla's words add vigor | to the virtuous ener- 
gies | which inspire your hearts ? — No !- — You have judged as 
I have, the foulness of the crafty plea | by which these bold 
invaders | would delude you. Your generous spirit | has com- 
pared, as mine has, the motives which, in a war like this, can 
animate their minds, and ours. 



* Mindless, heedless, ignorant, 
f Enervate, powerless. 



X Immortality, endless existence. 
§ Ubiquity, existence everywhere. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION 



69 



They, by a strange frenzy driven, fight for power, for plun- 
der, and extended rule ; — we, for our country, our altars,* and 
our homes. They follow an adventurer | whom they fear, and 
obey a power | which they hate we serve a monarch whom 
we love — a God whom we adore. Where'er they move in 
anger, desolation tracks their progress ! Where'er they pause 
in amity, affliction mourns then friendship. 

Section 2. 

They boast | they come but to improve our state, enlarge our 
thoughts, and free us from the yoke of error ! — yes : — they will 
give enlightened freedom to our minds, who are themselves j 
the slaves of passion, avarice, and pride. They offer us their 
protection — Yes, such protection as vultures give to lambs- 
covering and devouring them ! They call on us | to barter all 
the good we have inherited and proved, for the desperate 
chance of something better | which they promise. Be our 
plain answer this : — The throne we honor | is the people's 
choice — the laws we reverence | are our brave fathers' legacy f 
— the faith we follow | teaches us to live in bonds of charity | 
with all mankind, and die with hope of bliss | beyond the 
grave. Tell your invaders this, and tell them, too, we seek no 
change ; and, least of all, such change as they would bring us. 

FORTY-FIRST LESSON. 

WASHINGTON.— C. PllUUpS. 

Section 1, 

Allow me to add one flower to the chaplet,t which, though 
it sprang in America, is no exotic. § Virtue planted it, and it is 
naturalized everywhere. I see you anticipate me — I see you 
concur with me, that it matters very little what spot may be 
the birth-place of such a man as Washington. No people can 
claim, no country can appropriate him. The boon|| of Provi- 
dence to the human race, his fame is eternity, and his resi- 



* Altar, a place for sacrifice or worship, 
t Legacy, what is left by will, 
i Chaplet, a wreath of flowers. 



§ Exotic, a foreign plant. 
1 1 Boon, a gift. 



70 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



dence creation. Though it was the defeat of our arms, and 
the disgrace of our policy, I almost bless the convulsion in 
which he had his origin. If the heavens thundered, and the 
earth rocked, yet, when the storm had passed, how pure was 
the climate that it cleared ! how bright, in the brow of the 
firmament, was the planet which it revealed to us ! 

Section 2. 

In the production of Washington, it does really appear | as if 
Nature was endeavoring to improve upon herself, and that all 
the virtues of the ancient world | were but so many studies pre- 
paratory to the patriot of the new. Individual instances, no 
doubt there were, splendid exemplifications* of • some singular 
qualification : Csesar was merciful, Scipio was continent, Han- 
nibal was patient; but it was reserved for Washington | to 
blend them all in one, and, like the lovely masterpiece of the 
Grecian artist, to exhibit, in one glow of associated beauty, the 
pride of every model, and the perfection of every master. 

As a general, he marshalled the peasantf into a veteran,£ 
and supplied by discipline | the absence of experience ; as a 
statesman, he enlarged the policy of the cabinet§ | into the most 
comprehensive system of general advantage ; and such was 
the wisdom of his views, and the j)hilosophy of his counsels, 
that, to the soldier and. the statesman, he almost added, the 
character of the sage !(| A conqueror, he was untainted with 
the crime of blood ; a revolutionist, he was free from any 
stain of treason ; for aggression commenced the contest, and 
his country called him to the command. 

Liberty unsheathed his sword, necessity stained, victory re- 
turned it. If he had paused here, history might have doubted 
| what station to assign him : whether at the head of her citi- 
zens or her soldiers, her heroes, or her patriots. But the last 
glorious act crowns his career, and banishes all hesitation 

Section 3. 

Who, like Washington, after having emancipated a hemi- 

* Exemplifications, illustrations by examples. § Cabinet, a council room, 
f Peasant, one who labors in the country. || Sage, a wise man 

% Veteran, an old soldier. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 



71 



sphere, resigned its crown, and preferred the retirement of 
domestic life | to the adoration of a land he might be almost 
said to have created ! 

u How shall we rank thee upon Glory's page, 
Thou more than soldier, and just less than sage? 
All thou hast been reflects less fame on thee, 
Far less than all thou hast forborne to be I" 

Such, sir, is the testimony of one not to be accused of par- 
tiality | in his estimate of America. Happy, proud America ! 
The lightnings of heaven | yielded to your philosophy ! The 
temptations of earth | could not seduce your patriotism. 

FORTY-SECOND LESSON. 

SCOT LAND .*—Fldg'g'. 

Section 1. 

Statesmen — scholars — divines — heroes and poets — do you 
want exemplars* worthy of study and imitation ? Where will 
you find them brighter than in Scotland ? Where can 3^011 find 
them purer than in Scotland ? Here no Solon, indulging imagi- 
nation, has pictured the perfectibility t of man. No Lycurgus, 
viewing him through the medium of human frailty alone, has left 
for his government an iron code:): graven 011 eternal adamant. § 
No Plato, dreaming in the luxurious gardens of the Academy, 
has fancied what he should be, and bequeathed a republic of 
love. But sages, knowing their weakness, have appealed to 
his understanding, cherished his virtues, and chastised his 
vices. 

Friends of learning ! would you do homage | at the shrine of 
literature ? Would you visit her clearest founts ? — Go to Scot- 
land. Are you philosophers, seeking to explore the hidden 
mysteries of mind ? — Bend to the genius of Stewart ! Student, 
merchant, or mechanic, do you seek usefulness ? — Consult the 
pages of Black and of Adam Smith. Grave barrister I would 
you know the law — the true, the sole expression of the people's 
will ? — There stands the mighty Mansfield ! 



* Exemplars, patterns, models. % Code, a system of laws. 

t Perfectibility, capacity for becoming perfect. § .Sdamant, a very hard sicme 



72 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



Section 2. 

Servants of Him, whose name is above every other name, 
and not to be mentioned — recur to days | that are past: to 
days | that can never be blotted from the history of the church. 
Visit the mountains of Scotland ; contemplate the stern Came- 
ronian, the rigid covenanter, the enduring puritan. Follow 
them to their burrows | beneath the earth; to their dark, bleak 
caverns in the rocks. See them hunted like beasts of prey. 
See them emaciated,* worn with disease, clung with famine — 
yet laboring | with supernatural! zeal — in feeding the hungry 
| with that bread | which gives life for ever more. Go view 
them, and when you preach faith, hope, charity, fortitude and 
long-suffering — forget them not; the meek, the bold, the patient, 
gallant Puritans of Scotland. 

Land of the mountain, the torrent and dale ! — Do we look 
for high examples | of noble daring? Where shall we find 
them brighter than hi Scotland ? From the " bonny J highland 
heather"§ of her lofty summits, to the modest lily of the vale, not 
a flower | but has blushed with patriot blood. 

Section 3. 

From the proud foaming crest of Solway, to the calm polish- 
ed breast of Loch Katrine, not a river or lake but has swelled 
with the life-tide of freemen ! Would you witness greatness ? 
— Contemplate a Wallace and a Bruce. They fought not for 
honors, for party, for conquest. 'Twas for their country 
and their country's good ; religion, liberty and law. Would 
you ask for chivalry ? — that high and delicate sense of honor, 
which deems a stain upon one's country — as individual dis- 
grace ; that moral courage | which measures danger, and 
meets it against known odds ; that patriot valor, which would 
rather repose | on a death-bed of laurels | than flourish in wealth 
and power | under the night-shade of despotism ? — Citizen 
soldier, turn to Lochiel ; " proud bird of the mountain !" Though 
pierced with the usurper's|| arrow, his plumage still shines | 

* Emaciated, reduced in flesh, lean. 

t Supernatural, being beyond the laws of nature, miraculous. 
% Bonny, beautiful. 

§ Heather, a plant, bearing a beautiful flower. 
|! Usurper, one who takes possession wrongfully 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 73 

through the cloud of oppression, lighting to honor all | who 
nobly dare to "do or die." 

Where then can we better look | for all that is worthy of 
honest ambition, than to Scotland ? 



FORTY-THIRD LESSON. 

THE QUEEN OF FRANCE. Burke. 

Section 1. 

It is now sixteen or seventeen years | since I saw the Queen 
of France, then the Dauphiness,* at Versailles ; and surely 
never lighted on this orb, which she hardly seemed to touch, a 
more delightful vision. I saw her just above the horizon, de- 
corating and cheering the elevated sphere | she just began to 
move n> — glittering like the morning star ; full of life, and splen- 
dor, and joy. 

Oh ! what a revolution ! and what a heart must I have, to 
contemplate | without emotion that elevation | and that fall ! 

Little did I dream | that when she added titles of veneration 
| to those of enthusiastic, distant, respectful Jove, that she 
should ever be obliged to carry the sharp antidotef against dis- 
grace | concealed in that bosom ; little did I dream that I should 
have lived to see such disasters heaped upon her — in a nation 
of gallant men ; in a nation of men of honor and of cavaliers.} 
I thought ten thousand swords | must have leaped from their 
scabbards, to avenge even a look | that threatened her with 
insult. 

Section 2. 

But the age of chivalry§ j is gone. That of sophisters,|| eco- 
nomists, and calculators, has succeeded ; and the glory of Eu- 
rope j is extinguished for ever. Never, never more, shall we 
behold that generous loyaltyH to rank and sex, that proud sub- 

* Dauphiness, a female relative of the King of France, who, by law. is entitled to 
succeed him or become a queen after his death. 
^Antidote, remedy. 

$ Cavaliers, knights, gallant and noble men. 
$ Chivalry, knighthood, the dignity of a knight, 
fl Sophistei s, artful, deceptive reasoners. 

11 Loyalty, fidelity, regard, usually it signifies fidelity to the king. 



74 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY 



mission, that dignified obedience, that subordination of the 
heart, which kept alive, even in servitude itself, the spirit of an 
exalted freedom. 

The unbought grace of life, the cheap defence of nations, the 
nurse of manly sentiment and heroic enterprise — is gone ! It 
is gone, that sensibility of principle, that chastity of honor, 
which felt a stain like a wound ; which inspired courage, 
whilst it mitigated ferocity ; which ennobled whatever it touch- 
ed; and under which vice itself | lost half its evil, by losing all 
its grossness. 

FORTY-FOURTH LESSON. 

NATIONAL GLORY. Clay. 

Section 1. 

We are asked, what have we gained by the war ? I have 
shown | that we have lost nothing | in rights, territory, or 
honor; nothing | for which we ought to have contended, ac- 
cording to the principles of the gentlemen | on the other side, 
or according to our own. Have we gained nothing by the 
war ? Let any man | look at the degraded condition of this 
country | before the war, the scorn of the universe, the con- 
tempt of ourselves, and tell me | if we have gained nothing by 
the war. What is our present situation ? Respectability and 
character abroad, security and confidence at home. If we 
have not obtained, in the opinion of some, the full measure of 
retribution, our character and constitution | are placed on a 
solid basis,* never to be shaken. 

The glory | acquired by our gallant tars, by our Jacksons 
and our Browns on the land — is that nothing? True, we had 
our vicissitudes: there were humiliating events | which the 
patriot cannot review j without deep regret — but the great ac- 
count, when it comes to be balanced, will be found vastly in 
our favor. Is there a man | who would obliterate | from the 
proud pages of our history | the brilliant achievements of Jack- 
son, Brown, and Scott, and the host of heroes | on land and sea, 
whom I cannot enumerate ? Is there a man | who could not 



* Basis foundation 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 



75 



desire a participation | in the national glory acquired by the 
war ? Yes, national glory, which, however the expression may 
be condemned by some, must be cherished by every genuine 
patriot. 

Section 2. 

What do I mean | by national glory ? Glory such as Hull, 
Jackson, and Perry | have acquired. And are gentlemen in- 
sensible to their deeds — to the value of them | in animating the 
country | in the hour of peril hereafter ? Did the battle of Ther- 
mopylae | preserve Greece but once ? Whilst the Mississippi | 
continues to bear the tributes of the Iron Mountains and the 
Alleghanies | to her Delta and to the Gulf of Mexico, the eighth 
of January | shall be remembered, and the glory of that day | 
shall stimulate future patriots, and nerve the arms of unborn 
freemen | in driving the presumptuous invader | from our 
country's soil. 

Gentlemen may boast of their insensibility* to feelings inspir- 
ed j by the contemplation of such events. But I would ask, 
does the recollection of Bunker's Hill, Saratoga, and Yorktown, 
afford them no pleasure ? Every act of noble sacrifice to the 
country, every instance of patriotic devotion to her cause, has 
its beneficial influence. A nation's character | is the sum of its 
splendid deeds ; they constitute one common patrimony, f the 
nation's inheritance. They awe foreign powers — they arouse 
and animate our own people. I love true glory. It is this sen- 
timent | which ought to be cherished ; and, in spite of cavils, 
and sneers, and attempts to put it down, it will finally conduct 
this nation | to that height | to which God | and nature | have 
destined it. 

FORTY-FIFTH LESSON. 
the necessity of union. — Webster. 

Section 1. 

I profess, sir, in my career hitherto, to have kept | steadily 
in view | the prosperity and honor of the whole country, and 
the preservation of our federal union, t It is to that union | we 

* Insensibility, want of feeling, indifference. 

t Patrimony, an estate derived from a father or other ancestor. 

% Fhderal union, f here J signifies the union of the United States. 



76 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



owe our safety at heme, and our consideration and dignity 
abroad. It is to that union | that we are chiefly indebted | for 
whatever makes us most proud of our country. That union 
we reached, only by the discipline of our virtues, in the severe 
school of adversity. It had its origin | in the necessities of 
disordered finance, prostrate commerce, and ruined credit. 
Under its benign* influences, these great interests | immediate- 
ly awoke, as from the dead, and sprang forth | with newness 
of life. Every year of its duration | has teemed with fresh 
proofs of its utility | and its blessings; and | although our ter- 
ritory | has stretched out, wider and wider, and our population 
spread farther and farther, they have not outrun its protection, 
or its benefits. It has been to us all | a copious fountain of 
national, social, and personal happiness. 

I have not allowed myself, sir, to look beyond the union, to 
see what might lie hidden j in the dark recess behind. I have 
not coolly weighed the chances of preserving liberty, when the 
bonds | that unite us together | shall be broken asunder. I 
have not accustomed myself | to hang over the precipice of 
disunion, to see whether, with my short sight, I can fathom 
the depth of the abyss below ; nor could I regard him as a 
safe counsellor | in the affairs of this government, whose 
thoughts should be mainly bent on considering, not how the 
Union should be best preserved, but how tolerable might be 
the condition of the people | when it shall be broken up and 
destroyed 

Section 2. 

While the Union lasts, we have high, exciting, gratifying 
prospects spread out before us, for us and our children. Be- 
yond that | I seek not to penetrate the veil. God grant that, in 
my day, at least, that curtain may not rise. God grant, that 
on my vision never may be opened | what lies behind. When 
my eyes shall be turned to behold, for the last time, the sun in 
heaven, may I not see him shining | on the broken and dis- 
honored fragments | of a once glorious union ; on states dis- 
severed,! discordant, belligerent ;f on a land rent with civil§ 
feuds,|| or drenched, it may be, in fraternalir blood ! Let their 



* Benign, kind, generous. 

T Dissevered, divided. 

i Belligerent, carrying on war. 



§ Civil, being in cur own country. 
|| Feuds, quarrels, contentions. 
5 Fraternal, of brothers. 



* 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION 77 

last feeble and lingering glance, rather, behold the gorgeous* 
ensignf of the republic, now known and honored | throughont 
the earth, still full high advanced, its arms and trophies stream- 
ing | in their original lustre, not a stripe erased or polluted, nor 
a single star obscured — bearing | for its motto, no such miser- 
able interrogatory as — What is all this worth? Nor those 
other words of delusion and folly — liberty first, and union 
afterwards, but everywhere, spread all over in characters of 
living light, blazing on all its ample folds as they float over 
the sea and over the land, and in every wind under the whole 
heavens, that other sentiment dear to every true American 
heart — liberty and union, now and for ever, one and insepa- 
rable !{ 



FORTY-SIXTH LESSON. 

THE IMPORTANCE OF PRESERVING OUR FORM OF GOVERN- 
MENT. — Webster. 

Section 1 

Sir, in our endeavors to maintain our existing forms of gov- 
ernment, we are acting [ not for ourselves alone, but for the 
great cause of constitutional liberty | all over the globe. We 
are trustees, holding a sacred treasure, in which all the lovers 
of freedom have a stake. Not only in revolutionized France, 
where there are no longer subjects, where the monarch can no 
longer say, he is the state ; not only in reformed England, 
where our principles, our institutions, our practice of free gov- 
ernment | are now daily quoted and commended ; but in the 
depths of Germany, and among the desolate fields, and the 
still smoking ashes of Poland, prayers are uttered | for the pre- 
servation of our union | and happiness. We are surrounded, 
sir, by a cloud of witnesses. The gaze of the sons of liberty, 
everywhere, is upon us, anxiously, intently, upon us. It may 
see us fall | in the struggle for our constitution | and govern 
ment, but heaven forbid | that it should see us recreant. 



* Gorgeous, splendid 
t Ensign, flag 



i Inseparable, that cannot be separated 



78 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



Section 2. 

At least, sir, let the star of Massachusetts be the last | which 
shall be seen to fall from heaven, and to plunge | into the utter 
darkness of disunion. Let her shrink back, let her hold others 
back, if she can ; at any rate | let her keep herself back from 
this gulf, full, at once, of fire and | of blackness ; yes, sir, as far 
as human foresight can scan, or human imagination fathom, 
full of the fire and the blood of civil war, and of the thick 
darkness | of geueral political disgrace, ignominy* and ruin. 
Though the worst happen | that can happen, and though we 
be not able to prevent the catastrophe,! yet, let her maintain 
her own integrity, her own high honor, her own unwavering 
fidelity, so that | with respect and decency, though with a 
broken and a bleeding heart, she may pay the last tribute | to 
a glorious, departed, free constitution. 



FORTY-SEVENTH LESSON. 

THE MONUMENT ON BUNKER'S HILL. — Webster. 

Section 1. 

We know | that the record of illustrious actions | is most 
safely deposited | in the universal remembrance | of mankind 
We know, that if we could cause this structure to ascend, not 
only till it reached the skies, but till it pierced them, its broad 
surface | could still contain but part of that, which, in an age 
of knowledge, hath already been spread over the earth, and 
which history charges herself | with making known to all 
future times. We know | that no inscription, on entablature s:f 
| less> broad than the earth itself, can carry information of the 
events | we commemorate | where it has not already gone ; 
and that no structure | which shall not outlive the duration of 
letters | and knowledge among men, can prolong the memorial. § 
But our object is, by this edifice, to show our deep sense of the 
value | and importance of the achievements | of our ances- 

* Ignominy, disgrace, infamy. 

\ Catastrophe, calamity, disaster. 

% Entablature, a part of a column. 

§ Memorial, something to preserve the remembrance 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 



79 



tors ; and | by presenting this work of gratitude to the eye, to 
keep alive similar sentiments, and to foster a similar regard, to 
the principles of the revolution. Human beings are composed 
not of reason only, but of imagination also, and sentiment ; 
and that is neither wasted nor misapplied, which is appro- 
priated to the purpose | of giving right direction to sentiments, 
and opening proper springs of feeling | in the heart. 

Section 2. 

Let it not be supposed | that our object is to perpetuate 
national hostility, or even to cherish a mere military spirit. It 
is higher, purer, nobler. We consecrate our work | to the 
spirit of national independence, and we wish | that the light of 
peace j may rest upon it for ever. We rear a memorial of our 
conviction j of the unmeasured benefit | which has been con- 
' ferred on our land, and of the happy influences, which have 
been produced, by the same events, on the general interests 
of mankind. We come, as Americans, to mark a spot, which 
must be for ever dear | to us, and our posterity. We wish j 
that whosoever, in all coming time, shall turn his eyes hither, 
may behold | that the place is not undistinguished | where the 
first great battle of the revolution | was fought. We wish, 
that this structure | may proclaim the magnitude and import- 
ance of that event | to every class and every age. We wish, 
that infancy may learn the purpose of its erection | from 
maternal lips, and that weary and withered age | may behold 
it, and be solaced by the recollections | wmich it suggests. We 
wish, that labor may look up here, and be proud, in the midst 
of its toil. We wish, that, in those days of disaster, which, as 
they come upon all nations, must be expected to come on us 
also, desponding patriotism | may turn its eyes hither, and be 
assured j that the foundations of our national power j still 
stand strong. We wish, that this column, rising towards 
heaven | among the pointed spires of so many temples dedi- 
cated to God, may contribute also to produce, in all minds, a 
pious feeling of dependence and gratitude. We wish finally, 
that the last object \ on the sight of him | who leaves his 
native shore, and the first to gladden him | who revisits it, 
may be something | which shall remind him j of the liberty 



60 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



and glory of his country. Let it rise, till it meet the sun in nis 
coming ; let the earliest light of morning gild it, and parting 
(?ay | linger and play upon its summit. - 



FORTY-EIGHTH LESSON. 

THE BATTLE OF LEXINGTON. Everett. 

Section 1. 

Some organization and preparation | had been made ; but, 
from the nature of the case, with scarce any effect | on the 
events of that day. It may be doubted, whether there was an 
efficient* order given | the whole day | to any body of men | as 
large as a regiment. It was the people, in their first capacity, 
as citizens and as freemen, starting from their beds at midnight, 
from their fireside's | and their fields, to take their own cause | in 
their own hands. Such a spectacle is the height of the moral sub- 
lime ; when the want of everything | is fully made up | by the 
spiri t of the cause ; and the soul within | stands in place of disci- 
pline, organization, resources. In the prodigious efforts of a vete- 
ran army, beneath the dazzling splendor of their array, there is 
something revolting | to the reflecting mind. The ranks are 
filled with the desperate, the mercenary, the depraved ; and 
iron slavery, by the name of subordination | merges the free 
will | of one hundred thousand men | in the unqualified despot- 
ism of one ; the humanity, mercy, and remorse | which scarce 
ever desert the individual bosom, are sounds without a mean- 
ing | to that fearful, ravenous, irrational monster of prey, a 
mercenary! army. 

Section 2. 

It is hard to say J who are most to be commiserated,}: the 
wretched people | on Avhom it is let loose, or the still more 
wretched people whose substance has been sucked out to 
nourish it | into strength and fury. But | in the efforts of the 
people, of the people struggling for their rights, moving, not in 
organized, disciplined masses, but in their spontaneous§ ac- 
tion, man for man, and heart for heart, — though I like not war 



* Efficient, producing effect, 
f Mercenary, hired 



X Commiserated, pitied. 

§ Spontaneous, voluntary, free. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 



81 



f nor any of its works, — there is something giorious. They 
can then move forward without orders, act together without 
combination, and brave the flaming lines of battle, without in- 
trenchments* to cover, or walls to shield them. No dissolute 
camp | has worn off | from the feelings of the youthful soldier 

| the freshness of that home, where his mottier and his sisters 
sit waiting, with tearful eyes and aching hearts, to hear good 
news from the wars ; no long service in the ranks of the con- . 
queror | has turned the veteran's heart into marble ; their valor 
springs | not from recklessness, from habit, from indifference 
to the preservation of a life, knit by no pledges to the life of 
others; but in the strength | and spirit of the cause alone, they 
act, they contend, they bleed. In this they conquer. The 
people | always conquer. They always must conquer. 

Section 3. 

Armies | may be defeated ; kings | may be overthrown, and 
new dynasties! | imposed by foreign arms | on an ignorant and 
slavish race, that care not | in what language | the covenant of 
their subjection runs, nor in whose name | the deed of their 
barter | and sale is made out. But the people | never invade ; 
and when they rise | against the invader, are never subdued. 
If they are driven from the plains, they fly to the mountains. 
Steep rocks and everlasting hills | are their castles ; the tangled, 
pathless thicket | their palisado;t and nature, — God, — is their 
ally. Now | he overwhelms the host of their enemies | beneath 
his drifting mountains of sand ; now | he buries them beneath 
an atmosphere of falling snows ; he lets loose his tempests | 
on their fleets; he puts a folly into their councils, a madness 
into the hearts of their leaders; and he never gave, and never 
will give, a full and final triumph over a virtuous, gallant peo- 
ple, resolved to be free. 



* Intrenchments, fortifications made with trenches or ditches, 
f Dynasties, governments. 
t Palisado, fortification 



82 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



FORTY-NINTH LESSON. 

THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION.— HaiJUeS. 

Section 1. 

It has been usual, on occasions like the present, to give a 
history of the wrongs endured by our fathers. But, my friends, 
we have prouder, and more ennobling recollections, connected 
with our revolution. They are to be found in the spirit display- 
ed by our fathers, when all their petitions had been slighted, 
their remonstrances despised, and their appeals to the generous 
sympathies of their brethren | utterly disregarded. Yes, my 
friends, theirs was that pure and lofty spirit of devoted patriot- 
ism, which never quailed beneath, oppression, which braved 
all dangers, trampled upon difficulties, and in " the times which 
tried men's souls," taught them to be faithful to their principles, 
and to their country — true ; and which induced them | in the 
very spirit of that Brutus (whose mantle has fallen, in our own 
day, upon the shoulders of one so worthy to wear it) to swear 
on the altar of liberty — to give themselves up wholly | to their 
country. There is one characteristic, however, of the Ameri- 
can revolution, which, constituting, as it does, its living princi- 
ple, its proud distinction, and its crowning glory — cannot be 
passed over in silence. It is this — that our revolution had its 
origin, not so much in the weight of actual oppression, as in 
the great principle — the sacred duty, of resistance to the exer- 
cise of unauthorized power 

Section 2. 

Other nations have been driven to rebellion | by the iron 
hand of despotism, the insupportable weight of oppression, 
which leaving men nothing worth living for, has taken away 
the fear of death itself, and caused them to rush | upon the 
spears of their enemies, or to break their chains upon the heads 
of their oppressors. But it was a tax of three-pence a pound 
upon tea, imposed without right, which was considered by our 
ancestors as a burden too grievous to be borne. And why ? 
Because they were men " who felt oppression's lightest finger 
as a mountain weight," and, in the fine language of that just 



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and N eautiful tribute paid to their character by one, " whose 
praises will wear well" — they "judged of the grievance, by the 
badness of the principle, they augured* misgovernment at a dis- 
tance, and snuffed the approach of tyranny in every tainted 
breeze" — because they were men, who, in the darkest hour, 
could say to their oppressors, " we have counted the cost, and 
find nothing so deplorable as voluntary slavery," and who were 
ready to exclaim with the orator of Virginia, " give me liberty 
or give me death." Theirs was the same spirit which inspired 
the immortal Hampden to resist, at the peril of his life, the im- 
position of ship-money, not because, as remarked by Burke, 
" the payment of twenty shillings would have ruined his for- 
tune, but because the payment of half twenty shillings, on the 
principle on which it was demanded, would have made him a 
slave." It was the spirit of liberty which still abides on the 
earth, and whose home is in the bosoms of the brave — which 
but yesterday, in " beautiful France," restored their violated 
charter — which even now burns brightly on the towers of Bel- 
gium, and has rescued Poland from the tyrant's grasp — making 
their sons, aye, and their daughters too, the wonder and the ad< 
miration of the world, the pride and glory of the human race ! 



FIFTIETH LESSON. 

APPEAL IN BEHALF OF GREECE.— 

Section 1. 

The calamities of unhappy Greece | are not only great, but 
without a parallel. Collect, my brethren, for a moment, the 
powers of your fancy, and fix them on that afflicted country. 
What a sad and revolting spectacle | stands before you ! The 
warrior repairs to the field of battle, not like his adversary, in 
"the pride and pomp and circumstance of glorious war" — but 
hi the deep miseries | of poverty and consuming care : the ma- 
tron | and her lovelv daughter | are torn from the sanctuary* of 
their home, driven into hopeless captivity, or forced into lonely 
deserts | to subsist on acorns, and seek a shelter from the storm, 



* Augured, foretold, foresaw 



t Sanctuary, a sacred place. 



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ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



ill the caverns of the earth: the lisping infant, clinging with 
convulsive grasp | to its flying mother, is overtaken by the 
• savage Turk, and slaughtered | without remorse; a country 
once verdant with vines, and olives, and generous crops, is 
blasted by the breath of war, and left " without agriculture, 
without commerce, and without arts the traces of a desolat- 
ing foe | are marked, not only on the site of lamented Scio, on 
the ramparts of Ipsara, Missoloiighi, and the Acropolis ; but in 
every city, and village, and hamlet, and portion | of this devot- 
ed country. 

Section 2. 

The winds | which sweep along the fields, once blooming 
with groves, sacred to the Muses, and over the ruins of temples 
erected for the arts and sciences, bear | on their wings | the 
sighs of expiring widows, and moans of vanquished heroes, 
and the beseechings of starving infants ! And do you not, in 
the view of such a picture, yield to pity ? Oh, can there be a 
heart so hard, as to remain unmoved | by scenes so sad as 
these ? No, exclaims the philanthropist : all — all I have, is at 
the service of this afflicted country ! 

And will not the scholar | respond in the same notes ? I am 
sure he will. There is not a living soul, who ever revelled on 
the creations of inspired fancy, or hung enchanted | upon the 
strains of oratory, or followed | with swelling and delicious ad- 
miration | the flowing periods of eloquence, or beheld the ma- 
gic transformation of the chisel, or the enrapturing beauties of 
the pencil, who does not feel himself indebted | to unhappy 
Greece. Oh Greece ! Venerated and beloved Greece ! Often 
have we, kneeling at thy shrine, rendered the homage of ad- 
miration | to thy transcendant genius ! Tt was thy maternal 
bosom | that nourished him, whose immortal song | has been 
the wonder of the world; — him, whose voice shook the throne 
of Macedon, controlled the passions of fierce democracy, and 
perpetuated | to the present moment | the power and soul of 
eloquence ; — him | who bodied forth forms of beauty | from, the 
rugged rock, and gave them, as it were, sentiment and feeling; 
— him | whose moral science the virtuous still revere : — " Foi 
her seat is the bosom of God, and her voice the harmony of the 
world " 



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Section 3. 

Say, then, ye men of letters— shall Greece be given up ? — 
Shall the Turk still pollute the soil sanctified by the brightest 
genius ? desecrate the groves, the temples, and the porticoes, 
from which have issued living streams that have often laved 
and refreshed your souls ? extinguish the ethereal* fire which 
quickened the mighty minds of Burke, and Chatham, and 
Adams, and Henry ? Oh, ye who boast of refined and ele- 
vated minds, prove, I beseech you, the reality of your preten- 
sions by contributing to the redemption of a country, from 
whose brilliant genius you have derived your brightest orna- 
ments. 

* * * * * 

Oh, ye friends of liberty ! ye | wno have been nursed in the 
lap of freedom, and cradled in the storms of emancipation,! 
will you not contribute | to the release of such a people ? Will 
you look on, without concern, and see the sons of Sparta, of 
Athens, of Thermopylae, crushed beneath the sceptre of the 
Porte ? Will you make no effort | for their redemption ? Shall 
they still bend their neck | to the crnel yoke | for the want of 
your assistance ? Oh, if this be the fact, the time will come, 
when you will repent of your present apathy. When the sighs 
of expiring hope, the clank of chains binding the Greeks j to 
the car of tyranny, shall be wafted | over the wide wastes of 
the Atlantic, and sink into your reluctant ears, you will lament, 
(but, alas ! too late) the inglorious supinenessj | which had led 
to this result. If the cause of Greece be lost, the cause of 
liberty | will suffer. In permitting this event, you will descend 
| from your high position, and commence a preparation | for 
servitude and chains. When the Greek republic | shall have 
ceased its struggles, and sunk into the iron grasp of Moslem 
tyranny, the current of civil liberty | will not improbably 
change its course, and the chill of death, striking to the heart 
of freedom, commence the* dissolution | of our own govern- 
ment. 

* Ethereal, airy, heavenly. % Supinencss, indolence 

t Emancipation, act of setting free 



8 



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ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



FIFTY-FIRST LESSON. 
ANCIENT ORATORY.— Fordyce. 

It will not, I think, be pretended, that any of our public 
speakers | have often occasion to address more sagacious, 
learned, or polite assemblies, than those | which were com- 
posed of the Roman senate, or the Athenian people, in their 
most enlightened times. But it is well known | what great 
stress the most celebrated orators of those times | laid on 
action ; how exceedingly imperfect they reckoned eloquence | 
without it, and what wonders they performed | with its assist • 
ance ; performed upon the greatest, firmest, most sensible, and 
most elegant spirits | the world ever saw. I transport myself 
in imagination | to old Athens. I mingle with the popular 
assembly, I behold the lightning, I listen to the thunder of 
Demosthenes. I feel my blood thrilled, I see the auditory lost 
and shaken, like some deep forest | by a mighty storm. I am 
filled with wonder at such marvellous effects. I am hurried 
almost out of myself. In a little while, I endeavor to be more 
collected. Then I consider the orator's address. I find the 
whole inexpressible. But nothing strikes me more | than his 
action. I perceive the various passions | he would inspire, 
rising in him by turns, and working from the depth of his 
frame. Now he glows | with the love of the public ; now he 
flames with indignation | at its enemies ; then he swells with 
disdain, of its false, indolent, or interested friends, anon he 
melts with grief | for its misfortunes ; and now he turns pale | 
with fear of yet greater ones. Every feature, nerve, and cir- 
cumstance about him is intensely animated; each almost 
seems | as if it would speak. I discern his inmost soul, I see 
it as only clad in some thin, transparent vehicle. It is all on 
fire. I wonder no longer | at the effects of such eloquence. 
I only wonder at their causes 



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FIFTY-SECOND LESSON. 

SPEECH DENYING THE RIGHT OF PARLIAMENT TO ENACT 

A LAW TO UNITE IRELAND AND ENGLAND. Pluflket. 

Section 1. 

I, in the most express terms, deny the competency of par- 
liament to do this act. I warn you, do not dare to lay your 
hand on the constitution — I tell you that if, circumstanced as 
you are, you pass this act, it will be a nullity, and that no man 
in Ireland | will be bound to obey it. I make the assertion 
deliberately — I repeat it, and I call on any man who hears me, 
to take down my words ; — you have not been elected | for this 
purpose — you are appointed to make laws | and not legisla- 
tures — you are appointed to act | under the constitution, not 
to alter it — you are appointed to exercise the functions of legis- 
lators, and not to transfer them — and if you do so, your act is 
a dissolution of the government — you resolve society into its 
original elements, and no man in the land | is bound to obey 
you. 

Yourselves you may extinguish, but parliament | you cannot 
extinguish — it is enthroned | in the hearts of the people — it is 
enshrined | in the sanctuary of the constitution — it is immortal 

| as the island | which it protects ; as well might the frantic 
suicide hope | that the act | which destroys his miserable body 

| should extinguish his eternal soul. Again, I therefore warn 
you, do not dare to lay your hands on the constitution ; it is 
above your power. 

Section 2. 

Sir, I do not say that the parliament | and the people, by 
mutual consent and co-operation, may not change the form of 
the constitution. 

But thank God, the people have manifested no such wish ; 
so far as they have spoken, their voice is decidedly | against 
this daring innovation. You know | that no voice has been 
uttered in its favor, and you cannot be infatuated enough | to 
take confidence from the silence | which prevails in some parts 
of the kingdom ; if you know how to appreciate* that silence I 



* Appreciate, value 



8S 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



it is more formidable | than the most clamorous opposition- 
you may be rived and shivered by the lightning | before you 
hear the peal of the thunder ! But, sir, we are told | we should 
discuss this question | with calmness and composure. I am 
called on to surrender my birthright and my honor, and I am 
told I should be calm, composed. 

Section 3. 

National pride ! Independence of our country ! These, we 
are told by the minister, are only vulgar topics fitted for the 
meridian of the mob, but unworthy to be mentioned | in such 
an enlightened assembly as this ; they are trinkets | and gew- 
gaws fit to catch the fancy of childish and unthinking people | 
like you, sir, or like your predecessor in that chair, but utterly 
unworthy of the consideration of this house, or of the matured 
understanding of the noble lord | who condescends to instruct 
it ! * * We see a Perry re -ascending | from the tomb and 
raising his awful voice | to warn us | against the surrender ot 
our freedom, and we see | that the proud and virtuous feelings 
| which warmed the breast of that aged and venerable man, 
are only calculated to excite the contempt | of this young 
philosopher, who has been transplanted | from the nursery to 
the cabinet, to outrage the feelings | and understanding of the 
country. 



FIFTY-THIRD LESSON. 

OBSTACLES TO THE EXTINCTION OF WAR. ChalmeTS. 

Section 1. 

The first great obstacle | to the extinction of war, is, the way 
in which the heart of man | is carried off from its barbarities | 
and its horrors, by the splendor of its deceitful accompani- 
ments. There is a feeling of the sublime | in contemplating 
the shock of armies, just as there is | in contemplating the 
devouring energy of a tempest ; and this so elevates and en- 
grosses the whole man, that his eye is blind I to the tears of 
bereaved parents, and his ear is deaf to the piteous moan oi 
the dying, and the shriek of their desolated families 



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Section 2 

There is a gracefulness j in the picture of a youthful warrior 
| burning for distinction on the field, and lured by this gene- 
rous aspiration | to the deepest of the animated throng, where, 
in the fell work of death, the opposing sons of valor | struggle 
for a remembrance and a name ; and this side of the picture | 
is so much the exclusive object of our regard, as to disguise | 
from our view | the mangled carcasses of the fallen, and the 
writhing agonies of the hundreds and the hundreds more ] 
who have been laid on the cold ground, and left to languish | 
and to die. 

There no eye pities them. No sister is there | to weep over 
them. There no gentle hand | is present to ease the dying 
posture, or bind up the wounds, which, in the maddening fury 
of the combat, had been given and received | by the children 
of one common father. There death spreads its pale ensigns 

| over every countenance, and when night comes on, and 
darkness gathers around them, how many a despairing wretch 

| must take up with the bloody field | as the untented bed of 
his last sufferings, without one friend to bear the message of 
tenderness | to his distant home, without one companion to 
close his eyes ! 

Section 3. 

On every side of me | I see causes at work, which go to 
spread a most delusive coloring over war, to remove its shock- 
ing barbarities | to the background of our contemplations alto- 
gether. I see it in the history | which tells me of the superb 
appearance of the troops, and the brilliancy of their successive 
charges. I see it in the poetry | which lends the magic of its 
numbers | to the narrative* of blood, and transports its many 
admirers, as, by its images, and its figures, and its nodding 
plumes of chivalry, it throws its treacherousf embellishments { 
over a scene of legalized slaughter. 

I see it in the music | which represents the progress of the 
battle ; and where, after being inspired by the trumpet-notes of 
preparation, the whole beauty and tenderness of a drawing- 

* Narrative, recital, story. i Embellishments, ornaments. 

T Treacherous, faithless, false. 

8* 



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ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



room I are seen to bend | over the sentimental entertainment , 
nor do I hear the utterance of a single sigh | to interrupt the 
death-tones of the thickening contest, and the moans of the 
wounded men | as they fade away upon the ear, and sink into 
lifeless silence. 

Section 4. 

All, all goes to prove | what strange and half-sighted crea- 
tures we are. Were it not so, war could never have been 
seen | in any other aspect | than that of unmingled hatefulness ; 
and I can look to nothing | but to the progress of Christian 
sentiment upon earth, to arrest the strong current | of its popu- 
lar and prevailing partiality for war. Then only will an impe- 
rious* sense of duty | lay the check of severe principle on all 
the subordinate tastes | and faculties of our nature. Then will 
glory be reduced to its right estimate, and the wakeful benevo- 
lence of the gospel, chasing away every spell, will be devoted 
to simple but sublime enterprises | for the good of the species 



FIFTY-FOURTH LESSON. 
THE BATTLE AT MARATHON. Webster. 

When the traveller pauses on the plains of Marathon, what 
are the emotions | which strongly agitate his breast ; what is 
that glorious recollection | that thrills through his frame, and 
suffuses his eyes ? Not, I imagine, that Grecian skill and 
Grecian valor | were here most signally displayed ; but that 
Greece herself | was saved. It is because | to this spot, and to 
the event | which has rendered it immortal, he refers all the 
succeeding glories of the republic. It is because, if that day 
had gone otherwise, Greece had perished. It is because he 
perceives | that her philosophers and orators, her poets and 
painters, her sculptorsf and architects,^ her government and 
free institutions, point backward to Marathon, and that their 
future existence | seems to have been suspended | on the con- 



* Imperious, commanding. 

t Sculptors, those who carve wood or stone into images. 
t Architects, chief builders 



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tingency, whether the Persian or Grecian banner should wave 
victorious | in the beams of that day's setting sun. And as his 
imagination kindles | at the retrospect, he is transported back | 
to the interesting moment : he counts the fearful odds of the 
contending hosts ; his interest for the result | overwhelms him; 
he trembles | as if it was still uncertain, and seems to doubt | 
whether he may consider Socrates and Plato,* Demosthenes, t 
Sophocles,! and Phidias,§ as secure, yet, to himself | and to the 
world. 



FIFTY-FIFTH LESSON. 

reply to walpole.— Lord Chatham. 
Section 1. 

Sir, — The atrocious|| crime | of being a young man, which 
the honorable gentleman has, with such spirit and decency, 
charged upon me, I shall neither attempt to palliated nor deny; 
but content myself with wishing, that I may be one of those | 
whose follies may cease | with their youth, and not of that 
number | who are ignorant | in spite of experience. Whether 
youth can be imputed to any man | as a reproach, I will not, 
Sir, assume the province of determining ; but surely age | may 
become justly contemptible, if the opportunities | which it 
brings | have passed away without improvement, and vice 
appear to prevail, when the passions have subsided ** 

Section 2 

The wretch, who, after seeing the consequences of a thou- 
sand errors, continues still to blunder, and whose age has only 
added obstinacy to stupidity, is surely the object | either of 
abhorrence or contempt, an.d deserves not | that his grey hairs 
| should secure him from insult. Much more, Sir, is he to be 
abhorred, who, as he has advanced in age, has recededft from 
virtue, and become more wicked | with less temptation ; who 
prostitutes himself for money | which he cannot enjoy, and 



* Socrates and Plato, Grecian philosophers, 
t Demosthenes, a great orator. 
% Sophocles, a distinguished poet 
§ Phidias, a sculptor 



|| Atrocious, heinous, very wicked. 

1T Palliate, cover, excuse. 

** Subsided, ceased. 

ft Receded, gone back from 



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ELOCUTION MADE EASY 



spends the remains of his life | in the ruin of his country. But 
youth, Sir, is not my only crime ; I have been accused | of act- 
ing a theatrical* part. A theatrical part | may either imply 
some peculiarities of gesture, or a dissimulation! of my real 
sentiments, and an adoption of the opinions | and language of 
another man. 

In the first sense, Sir, the charge is too trifling to be con- 
futed ; and deserves only to be mentioned, that it may be des- 
pised. I am at liberty, like every other man, to use my own 
language ; and though, perhaps, I may have some ambition to 
please this gentleman, I shall not lay myself under any re- 
straint, nor very solicitously copy his diction or his mien, how- 
ever matured}: by age, or modelled by experience. But if any 
man shall, by charging me with theatrical behavior, imply, 
that I utter any sentiments but my own, I shall treat him as a 
calumniator,§ and a villain ; — nor shall any protection shelter 
him from | the treatment he deserves 

Section 3. 

I shall, on such an occasion, without scruple, trample upon 
all those forms | with which wealth and dignity entrench 
themselves, — nor shall anything but age | restrain my resent- 
ment ; age; which always brings one privilege, that of being 
insolent and supercilious, || without punishment. But with re- 
gard, Sir, to those | whom I have offended, I am of opinion, 
that if I had acted a borrowed part, I should have avoided 
their censure : the heat | that offended them, is the ardor of 
conviction, and that zeal for the service of my country, which 
neither hope nor fear shall influence me to suppress. I will 
not sit unconcerned | while my liberty is invaded, nor look in 
silence upon public robbery. I will exert my endeavors, at 
whatever hazard, to repel the aggressor, and drag the thief to 
justice, whoever may protect him | in his villainy, and who- 
ever may partake of his plunder. 

* Tlieatrical, suiting a theatre. 

t Dissimulation, a concealing of real views or opinions 
% Matured, ripened, perfected. 
§ Calumniator, slanderer. 
U Supercilious, haughty 



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FIFTY-SIXTH LESSON. 

catiline's speech on being sentenced to banish 
ment. — Croly. 
Banished from Rome ! what's banished but set free 
From daily contact of the things I loathe ? 
" Tried and convicted traitor !" — Who says this ? 
Who'll prove it, at his peril, on my head ? 
Banished ? — I thank you for 't. It breaks my chain ! 
I held some slack allegiance till this hour — 
But now my sword's my own. Smile on, my lords ; 
I scorn to count what feelings, withered hopes, 
Strong provocations, bitter, burning wrongs, 
I have within my heart-'s hot cells shut up, 
To leave you in your lazy dignities. 
But here I stand and scoff you : — here I fling 
Hatred and full defiance in your face. 
Your consul's merciful. For this all thanks. 
He dares not touch a hair of Catiline. 
" Traitor !" I go— but I return. This trial ! 
Here I devote your senate ! I've had wrongs, 
To stir a fever in the blood of age, 
Or make the infant's sinew strong as steel. 
This day's the birth of sorrows ! — This hour's work 
Will breed proscriptions. — Look to your hearths, my lords, 
For there henceforth shall sit, for household gods, 
Shapes hot from Tartarus ! — all shames and crimes ; 
Wan treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn ; 
Suspicion, poisoning his brother's cup ; 
Naked rebellion, with the torch and axe, 
Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones , 
Till anarchy comes down on you like night, 
And massacre seals Rome's eternal grave. 



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ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



FIFTY-SEVENTH LESSON 

THE RIGHT TO TAX AMERICA. Burke. 

Section 1. 

" But, Mr. Speaker, we have a right to tax America." Oh, 
inestimable right ! Oh, wonderful transcendent right ! the as- 
sertion of which | has cost this country thirteen provinces, six 
islands, one hundred thousand lives, and seventy millions of 
money. Oh, invaluable right ! for the sake of which | we have 
sacrificed our rank among nations, our importance abroad, and 
our happiness at home ! Oh, right ! more dear to us | than our 
existence, which has already cost us so much, and which 
seems likely to cost us our all. Infatuated man ! miserable 
and undone country ! not to know f that the claim of right, 
without the power of enforcing it, is nugatory and idle. We 
have a right to tax America, the noble lord tells us, therefore 
We ought to tax America. This is the profound logic | which 
comprises the whole chain of his reasoning. 

Section 2. 

Not inferior to this | was the wisdom of him | who resolved 
to shear the wolf. What, shear a wolf ! Have you considered 
the resistance, the difficulty, the danger of the attempt ? No, 
says the madman, I have considered nothing but the right. — 
Man has a right of dominion | over the beasts of the forest : 
and therefore I will shear the wolf. How wonderful — that a 
nation could be thus deluded ! But the noble lord deals in 
cheats and delusions. They are the daily traffic of his inven- 
tion ; and he will continue to play off his cheats on this house, 
so long as he thinks them necessary to his purpose, and so 
long as he has money enough | at command to bribe gentle- 
men | to pretend that they believe him. But a black and bitter 
day of reckoning | will surely come ; and whenever that day 
comes, I trust I shall be able, by a parliamentary impeachment,* 
to bring upon the heads of the authors of our calamities, the 
punishment they deserve. 



* Impeachment, accusation by lawful authority 



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FIFTY-EIGHTH LESSON. 

brutus on the death of c^esar. — Shakspeare. 

Romans, Countrymen, and Lovers! — hear me for my cause, 
and be silent, that you may hear. Believe me for mine honor ; 
and have respect to mine honor, that you may believe. Cen- 
sure me in your wisdom ; and awake your senses, that you 
may the better judge. — If there be any | in this assembly, any 
dear friend of Caesar's, to him I say, that Brutus' love to Caesar 
was no less than his. If, then, that friend demand | why Bru- 
tus vose against Caesar, this is my answer : not that I loved Cae- 
sar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Caesar 
wrre living, and die all slaves; than that Caesar were dead, to 
live all freemen? — As Caesar loved me, I weep for him; as he 
was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honor him; 
but as he was ambitious, I slew him ! There are tears for his 
love, joy for his fortune, honor for his valor, and death for his 
ambition ! — Who's here so base, that would be a bondman? if 
\ny, speak ! for him have I offended. Who's here so rude, that 
>vould not be a Roman ? if any, speak ! for him have I offended. 
Who's here so vile, that will not love his country? if any, 
speak ! for him have I offended. — I pause for a reply. — 

None ? then none have I offended ! I have done no more to 
Ceesar, than you should do to Brutus. The question of his 
death | is enrolled in the Capitol ; his glory not extenuated, 
wherein he was worthy ; nor his offences enforced, for which 
he suffered death. 

* * * * * 

With this I depart — that as I slew my best lover for the good 
of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when it shall 
please my country | to need my death. 



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ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



FIFTY-NINTH LESSON. 

RIENZl's ADDRESS TO THE ROMANS.— MlSS Mltford. 

Section 1. 

Friends, 

I come not here to talk. Ye know too well 

The story of our thraldom* :— - we are slaves ! 

The bright sun rises to his course, and lights 

A race of slaves ! He sets, and his last beam ( 

Falls on a slave ; — not such as, swept along | 

By the full tide of power, the conqueror leads J 

To crimson glory and undying fame ; 

But base, ignoblef slaves — slaves to a horde 

Of petty tyrants, feudal despots, lords, 

Rich in some dozen paltry villages, 

Strong in some hundred spearmen — only great ( 

In that strange spell, a name. Each hour, dark fraud, 

Or open rapine, or protected murder, 

Cries out against them. But this very day, 

An honest man, my neighbor — there he stands — 

Was struck — struck like a dog, by one | who wore 

The badge of Ursini ; because, forsooth, 

He tossed Hot high his ready cap in air, 

Nor lifted up his voice | in servile shouts, 

At sight of that great ruffian. Be we men, 

And suffer such dishonor ? men. and wash not 

The stain away in blood ? Such shames are common. 

Section 2 

[ have known deeper wrongs. I, that speak to you, 
I had a brother once, a gracious boy, 
Full of all gentleness, of calmest hope, 
Of sweet and quiet joy ; there was the look 
Of heaven upon his face, which limners give | 
To the beloved disciple. How I loved 
That gracious boy ! Younger by fifteen years, 
Brother at once and son ! He left my side, 



* Thraldom^ slavery 



Ignoble, mean. 



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A summer bloom on his fair cheeks, a smile 

Parting his innocent lips. In one short hour, 

The pretty harmless boy was slain ! I saw 

The corse, the mangled corse, and then I cried 

For vengeance ! Rouse, ye Romans : rouse, ye slaves ! 

Have ye brave sons ? Look, in the next fierce brawl, 

To see them die. Have ye daughters fair ? Look 

To see them live, torn from your arms ; * * * 

* * * And, if ye dare call for justice, 

Be answered by the lash. Yet this is Rome, 

That sat on her seven hills, and from her throne 

Of beauty, ruled the world ! Yet we are Romans ! 

Why, in that elder day, to be a Roman | 

Was greater than a king ! And once, again, — 

Hear me, ye walls, that echoed to the tread 

Of either Brutus ! — once again, I swear, 

The eternal city | shall be free ! her sons | 

Shall walk with princes ! 



SIXTIETH LESSON. 

henry v. to his soldiers.— Shakspeare. 

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more ; 

Or close the wall up with the English dead ! 

In peace, there 's nothing so becomes a man, 

As modest stillness and humility : 

But when the blast of war blows in our ears, 

Then imitate the action of the tiger ; 

Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, 

Disguise fair nature with hard-favored rage ; 

Then, lend the eye a terrible aspect ; 

Let it pry through the portage of the head 

Like tne brass cannon 1 

Now, set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide ; 
Hold hard the breath; and bend up every spirit 
To its full height. Now, on, you noblest English ! 
Whose blood is fetch'd from fathers of war-proof • 
Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders, 
9 



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ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



Have, in these parts, from morn till even fought, 
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument ! 
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, 
Straining upon the start. — The game 's afoot ! — 
Follow your spirit ; and, upon this charge, 
Cry, God for Harry, England, and St. George ! 



SIXTY-FIRST LESSON. 

REPLY TO CORRY. Grattan. 

Section 1. 

Has the gentleman done ? Has he completely done ? He 
was unparliamentary* from the begiiming | to the end of his 
speech. There was scarce a word he uttered | that was not a 
violation of the privileges of the House. But I did not call him 
to order — Why ? because the limited talents of some men ren- 
der it impossible for them to be severe | without being unpar- 
liamentary. But before I sit down, I shall show him how to 
be severe and parliamentary! at the same time. 

On any other occasion, I should think myself justifiable | in 
treating with silent contempt anything | which might fall from 
that honorable member ; but there are times, when the insig- 
nificance of the accuser | is lost in the magnitude of the accu- 
sation. I know the difficulty ) the honorable gentleman labor- 
ed under when he attacked me, conscious that, on a compara- 
tive view of our characters, public and private, there is noth- 
ing he could say which would injure me. The public would 
not believe the charge. I despise the falsehood. If such a 
charge were made by an honest man, I would answer it in the 
manner I shall do | before I sit down. But I shall first reply to 
it, when not made by an honest man. 

Section 2. 

The right honorable gentleman J has called me " an imim- 
peached traitor." I ask, why not " traitor," unqualified by an 



* Unparliamentary, contrary to the nsage of Parliament; contrary to rules of debate, 
t Parliamentary, according to the usage of Parliament ; according to rules of debate* 



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epithet ? I will tell him, it was because he durst not. It was 
the act of a coward, who raises his arm to strike, but has not 
courage to give the blow. I will not call him villain, because 
it would be unparliamentary, and 'he is a privy counsellor. I 
will not call him fool, because he happens to be Chancellor* 
of the Exchequer. f But I say, he is one who has abused the 
privilege of Parliament, and freedom of debate, by uttering 
language, which, if spoken out of the House, 1 should answer 
only with a blow. I care not how high his situation, how low 
his character, how contemptible his speech ; whether a privy 
counsellor or a parasite,! my answer would be a blow. 

He has charged me | with being connected with the rebels. 
The charge is utterly, totally, and meanly false. Does the 
honorable gentleman rely on the report of the House of Lords 
| for the foundation of his assertion ? If he does, I can prove 
to the committee, there was a physical impossibility of that 
report being true. But I scorn to answer any man for my con- 
duct, whether he be a political coxcomb, or whether he brought 
himself into power | by a false glare of courage or not. 

Section 3. 

I have returned, not as the right honorable member has said, 
to raise another storm — I have returned to discharge an honor- 
able debt of gratitude to my Gountry, that conferred a great re- 
ward for past services, which, I am proud to say, was not 
greater than my desert. I have returned to protect that con- 
stitution, of which I was the parent and the founder, from the 
assassination of such men — as the right honorable gentleman, 
and his unworthy associates. They are corrupt — they are se- 
ditious — and they, at this very moment, are in a conspiracy 
against their country. I have returned to refute a libel, as false 
as }t is malicious, given to the public | under the appellation 
of a report of the committee of the Lords. Here I stand ready 
for impeachment or trial. I dare accusation. I defy the 
honorable gentleman; I defy the government; I defy their 
whole phalanx : let them come forth. I tell the ministers, I 
will neither give them quarter nor take it. I am here to lay the 
shattered remains of my constitution | on the floor of this 
House, in defence of the liberties of my country. 



* Chancellor, a judge. 

+ Exchequer, a court so called. 



± Furasite, a flatterer of the lich. 



100 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



SIXTY-SECOND LESSON. 
THE INFLUENCE OF THE UNITED STATES UPON OTHER 

nations. — Webster. 

Section 1. 

Gentlemen, the spirit of human liberty | and free govern- 
ment | nurtured and grown into strength and beauty | in Ame- 
rica, has stretched its course | into the midst, of the nations. 
Like an emanation* from heaven, it has gone forth, and it will 
not return void. It must change, it is fast changing, the face 
of the earth. Our great, our high duty, is to show | in our ex- 
amples, that this spirit | is a spirit of health | as well as a 
spirit of power ; that its benignity is as great | as its strength ; 
that its efficiency | to secure individual rights, social relations, 
and moral order, is equal to the irresistible force | with which 
it prostrates principalitiesf and powers. The world, at this 
moment, is regarding us | with a willing, but something of a 
fearful admiration. Its deep and awful anxiety | is to learn, 
whether free states may be stable | as well as free ; whether 
popular power | may be trusted | as well as feared ; in short, 
whether wise, regular, and virtuous self-government | is a 
vision for the contemplation of theorists, or a truth established, 
illustrated, and brought into practice | in the country of Wash 
ington. 

Section 2. 

Gentlemen, for the earth | which we inherit, and the whole 
circle of the sun, for all the unborn races of mankind, we seem 
to hold | in our hands, for their weal or wo, the fate of this 
experiment. If we fail, who shall venture the repetition ? If 
our example | shall prove to be one, not of encouragement, 
but of terror — not fit to be imitated, but fit only to be shunned 
— where else shall the world look | for free models ? If this 
great Western Sun | be struck out of the firmament, at what 
other fountain | shall the lamp of liberty | hereafter be lighted ? 
What other orb | shall emit a ray to glimmer, even on the 
darkness of the world ? 



* Emanation, that which issues or proceeds, 
t Principalities, dominions of a prince. 



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SIXTY-THIRD LESSON. 
A REVOLUTIONARY SONG. 

One Speaker. Arm, arm for the battle — Invasion has come. 

His shadow has darkened our soil— 
Whole Class. We're ready — all ready ! our swords shall strike 
home, 

Ere the robber has gathered his spoil. 
One Speaker. Arm, arm for the battle — 'tis liberty calls, 

The tyrants are leagued as her foe — 
Whole Class. We're ready — all ready ! our hearts are her 
walls, 

Which tyrants will never o'erthrow. 
One Speaker. Arm, arm for the battle — our children and 

wives 

Are sinking with terrors oppressed — 
Whole Class. We're ready — all ready ! and pledged are our 
lives, 

That these dear ones in safety shall rest. 
One Speaker. Arm, arm for the battle ! — and cowards may fly ; 

The foe, like a torrent sweeps on — 
Whole Class. We're ready — all ready ! we'll shout ere we die. 

Hurrah ! for the battle is won. 

SIXTY-FOURTH LESSON. 
lib ert y. — Per civ al. 

Beneath our country's flag we stand, 
And give our hearts to thee, 
Bright power, who steekst and nerv'st our hand, 
Thou first born, Liberty ! 
Here, on our swords we pledge to give 
Our willing lives, that thou may'st live! 
9* 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

For thee, the Spartan youth of old, 

To death devoted, fell ! 

Thy spirit made the Roman bold, 

And fired the patriot Tell ! 

Our sires, on Bunker, fought for thee — 

Undaunted fought, and we are free ! 

Bun up your starry flag on high ! 

No storm shall rend its folds ; 

On, like a meteor, through the sky, 

Its steady course it holds. 

Thus high in heaven our flag unfurled — 

Go, bear it, Freedom, round the world ! 

SIXTY-FIFTH LESSON. 

on to the strife ! — Anonymous. 

On, on to the just and glorious strife ! 

With your swords your freedom shielding — 
Nay, resign, if it must be so, even life ; 

But die, at least, unyielding. 

On to the strife ! for t'were far more meet 
To sink with the foes who bay you, 

Than crouch, like dogs, at your tyrant's feet, 
And smile on the swords that slay you. 

Strike ! for the sires who left you free ! 

Strike ! for their sakes who bore you ! 
Strike ! for your homes and liberty, 

And the heaven you worship o'er you 1 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 

SIXTY-SIXTH LESSON. 

THE BATTLE FIELD. Patten. 

###### 

Forward ! — 'mid the battle's hum 
Roughly rolls the daring drum. 
Victory, with hurried breath. 
Calls ye, from her mouths of death 
War, with hand of crimson stain, 
Waves ye to the front again. 
Onward ! ere the field is won — 
Onward ! ere the fight is done ! 

Forward ! raise the banner high ! 
Toss its spangles to the sky, 
Let its eagle, reeking red, 
Float above the foeman's head ; 
Let its stripes of red and white 
Blind again his dazzled sight. 
Onward ! ere the field is won — 
Onward ! ere the fight is done ! 

Forward ! to the front again ! 
Urge the steed and loose the rein ; 
Spur amid the rattling peal ! 
Charge amid the storm of steel ! 
O'er the stream, and from the glen 
Cowards watch the strife of men. 
Onward ! ere the field is won — 
Onward 1 ere the fight is done ! 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



SIXTY-SEVENTH LESSON. 
the pilgrims. — Everett 

Section 1. 

Let us now advert to that period | when our Pilgrim 
Fathers | left their country and their homes | for this then 
unknown shore. Methinks I see that one solitary, adven- 
turous vessel, freighted with the prospects of a future state, 
and bound | across the unknown sea. I behold it pursuing, 
with a thousand misgivings, the uncertain, the tedious voyage. 
Suns | rise and set, and weeks and months pass, and winter 
surprises them | on the deep, but brings them not the sight of 
the wished-for shore. 

I see them now — scantily supplied with provisions, crowd- 
ed | almost to suffocation [ in their ill-stored prison, delayed 
by calms, pursuing a circuitous route ; — and now driven in 
fury | before the raging tempest, on the high and giddy 
waves. The awful voice of the storm | howls through the 
rigging. The laboring masts | seem straining from their 
base ; — the dismal sound of the pumps | is heard ;— the ship 
leaps, as it were, madly from billow to billow ; — the ocean 
breaks, and settles [ with engulfing floods j over the floating 
deck, and beats with deadening, shivering weight, against the 
staggered vessel. 

I see them, escaped from these perils, pursuing their 
all but desperate undertaking, and landing at last, after a 
five months' passage, on the ice-clad rocks of Plymouth, — ■ 
weak and weary from the voyage, — poorly armed, scantily 
provisioned # # * — without shelter,— without means, sur- 
rounded by hostile tribes. 

Shut now the volume of history, and tell me, on any prin- 
ciple of human probability, what shall be the fate of this 
handful of adventurers. Tell me, man of military science. 



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in how many months | were they all swept off | by the thirty 
savage tribes, enumerated within the early limits | of New 
England ? Tell me, politician, how long did this shadow of 
a colony, on which your conventions and treaties | had not 
smiled, languish on the distant coast ? 

Section 2. 

Student of history, compare for me | the baffled projects, 
the deserted settlements, the abandoned adventures of other 
times, and find the parallel of this. Was it the winter's 
storm, beating upon the houseless heads of women and chil- 
dren % was it hard labor and spare meals ? — was it disease % 
was it the tomahawk ? was it the deep malady of a blighted 
hope, a ruined enterprise, and a broken heart, aching in its 
last moments, at the recollection of the loved and left beyond 
the sea ? was it some, or all of these united, that hurried this 
forsaken company | to their melancholy fate ? 

And is it possible that neither of these causes, that not all 
combined, were able to blast this bud of hope ? Is it possi- 
ble, that from a beginning so feeble, so frail, so worthy | not 
so much of admiration | as of pity, there has gone forth a pro- 
gress | so steady, a growth | so wonderful, an expansion | so 
ample, a reality | so important, a promise | yet to be fulfilled, 
so glorious % 

SIXTY-EIGHTH LESSON. 
THE SEVERANCE OF SOUTH CAROLINA FROM THE 

union. — Grimke. 
Section 1. 

I ask no pardon, I make no apology | for the boldness and 
frankness | with which I speak. I am still | a freeman : and 
the convention | may be assured, that so long as the liberty 



106 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



of speech | and the liberty of the press remain, there are 
thousands | who will speak and write j as fearlessly | as I do. 
And have they yet to learn, that the confiscation of property, 
the imprisonment of the body, nay, the loss of life itself, have 
no terrors | for the brave and the free ? Have they yet to 
learn | that the dungeon and the scaffold | are the pageantry 
of tyrants, in the eyes of the martyr to civil or religious 
liberty ? Have they yet to learn, that they may torture the 
body, but cannot subdue the soul % that they may immolate 
the freeman, a victim to their power, but cannot make him 
the slave of their will ? Have they, indeed, yet to learn, 
after all the solemn lessons | that Liberty | has taught, amid 
the fires of persecution | and the blood of her martyred chil- 
dren — that the freeman, like the Christian, counts property, 
liberty, and life, as dust and ashes, in comparison with his 
principles and independence ? 



" Section 2. 

I have studied in vain | the history of free communities, 
and especially of this country ; and I have loved and vene- 
rated in vain | the noble qualities of American and of Caro- 
linian character, if there be not thousands | in this State, 
who are ready | in the same cause, to yield up property | to 
your acts of confiscation, liberty | to the loathsomeness of 
your dungeons, and life itself | to the tragedy of your scaf- 
folds. The punishments | you may inflict, may be ignomini- 
ous in your eyes ; but posterity will honor them j as the suf- 
ferings of the virtuous free. You may consign your victim | 
to the death of the malefactor ; but your own children | shall 
acknowledge his title | even to their gratitude and admira- 
tion. You may follow him j with scorn and execrations to 
the gallows : — May he be strengthened from above | to make 
the last act of his life, a prayer for his destroyers ! You 



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may brand the grave of your victim, as the grave of the 
traitor ; but the very next age | will hallow it as the bed of 
glory. 

SIXTY-NINTH LESSON. 
THE CHARGE. PefCWal. 

The horn and the trumpet are ringing afar. 

As the summons to battle are sounding ; 
And the steed, as he catches the signal of war, 

In the pride of his spirit is bounding. 
Shrill it echoes afar, over hill and o'er plain, 
And the wide distant mountains repeat it again ; 
And the shout of the warrior, and nearer the song, 
Peal aloud, as the glittering bands are hurrying along : 
As on, on, on, on pours the tide of fight, 
Still aloft floats the tossing flag, in the glance of morning's 
light. 

We leap to our saddles, we range us in line, 

As the voice of the trumpet is calling ; 
On the crown of yon ridge, bright their drawn sabres shine ; 

Down its slope, like a flood, they are falling. 
" Give the spur to the charge, ere the foeman is nigh : 
Rush amain, as the forest rings loud with your cry : 
Speed on to the shock, in his midway career — 
For our sires still were first in fight ; they never thought of 
fear !" 

So on, on, on, on, o'er the sounding plain, 

To the wild conflict fierce they rush, and together dash 



108 ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

SEVENTIETH LESSON. 

THE IMPORTANCE OF A FIRM NATIONAL CHARAC- 
TER. — Maxcy. 

Section 1. 

The loss of a firm national character, or the degradation 
of a nation's honor, is the inevitable prelude | to her destruc- 
tion. Behold the once proud fabric | of a Roman empire — 
an empire | carrying its arts and arms | into every part | of 
the eastern continent ; the monarchs of mighty kingdoms | 
dragged at the wheels | of her triumphal chariots ; her 
eagle | waving over the ruins of desolated countries. Where 
is her splendor, her wealth, her power, her glory ? Extin- 
guished forever. Where are her statesmen, her sages, her 
philosophers, her orators, her generals % Go to their solitary 
tombs and inquire. She lost her national character and her 
destruction | followed. The ramparts of her national pride | 
were broken down, and Vandalism, desolated her classic 
fields. 

Citizens | will lose their respect and confidence | in our 
government, if it does not extend over them | the shield of 
an honorable national character. Corruption | will creep 
in | and sharpen party animosity. Ambitious leaders | will 
seize upon the favorable moment. The mad enthusiasm for 
revolution | will call into action | the irritated spirit of our 
nation, and civil war must follow. The swords of our coun- 
trymen | may yet glitter | on our mountains, their blood 
may yet | crimson our plains. 

Such — the warning voice of all antiquity, the example of 
all republics proclaim — may be our fate. But | let us no 
longer | indulge these gloomy anticipations. 



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Section 2. 

The coramencement of our liberty | presages the dawn | 
of a brighter period | to the world. That bold, enterprising 
spirit | which conducted our heroes | to peace and safety, 
and gave us a lofty rank | amid the empires of the world, 
still animates the bosoms | of their descendants. Look back 
to that moment | when they unbarred the dungeons of the 
slave, and dashed his fetters | to the earth ; when the sword 
of a Washington | leaped from its scabbard | to revenge the 
slaughter of our countrymen. Place their example | before 
you. Let the sparks of their veteran wisdom J flash across 
your minds, and the sacred altars of your liberty, crowned 
with immortal honors, rise before you. Relying on the vir- 
tue, the courage, the patriotism, and the strength | of our 
country, we may expect | our national character | will be- 
come more energetic, our citizens more enlightened, and may 
hail the age | as not far distant, when will be heard, as the 
proudest exclamation of man : I am an American. 

SEVENTY-FIRST LESSON. 
old ironsides. — Holmes. 

Ay, tear her tattered ensign down ! 

Long has it waved on high, 
And many an eye has danced to see 

That banner in the sky ; 
Beneath it rang the battle shout, 

And burst the cannon's roar ; 
The meteor of the ocean air 

Shall sweep the clouds no more 

Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, 

Where knelt the vanquished foe, 
When winds were hurrying o'er the flood. 

And waves were white below. 
10 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 

No more shall feel the victor's tread ; 

No more the conquered knee ; 
The harpies of the shore shall pluck 

The eagle of the sea. 

Oh ! better that her shattered hulk 

Should sink beneath the wave : — 
Her thunders shook the mighty deep ; 

And there should be her grave ! 
Nail to the mast her holy flag, 

Set every threadbare sail, 
And give her to the god of storms, — 

The lightning, and the gale ! 



SEVENTY-SECOND LESSON. 

leonidas. — Croly. 

Shout for the mighty men, 

Who died along this shore — 
Who died within this mountain's glen 
For never nobler chieftain's head 
Was laid on Yalor's crimson bed, 

Nor ever prouder gore 
Sprang forth, than theirs who won the 
Upon thy strand, Thermopylae ! 

Shout for the mighty men, 

Who, on the Persian tents, 
Like lions from their midnight den 
Bounding on the slumbering deer, 
Rushed — a storm of sword and spear- 
Like the roused elements, 
Let loose from an immortal hand, 
To chasten or to crush a land ! 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 

But there are none to hear ; 

Greece is a hopeless slave. 
Leonidas ! no hand is near 
To lift thy fiery falchion now ; 
No warrior makes the warrior's vow 

Upon thy sea-washed grave. 
The voice that should be raised by men. 
Must now be given by wave and glen. 

And it is given ! — the surge — 

The tree — the rock — the sand — 
On Freedom's kneeling spirit urge, 
In sounds that speak but to the free, 
The memory of thine and thee ! 

The vision of thy band 
Still gleams within the glorious dell, 
Which their gore hallowed, as it fell ! 

And is thy grandeur done ? 

Mother of men like these ! 
Has not thy outcry gone, 
Where justice has an ear to hear ? — 
Be holy ! God shall guide thy spear ; 

Till in thy crimsoned seas 
Are plunged the chain and scimitar, 
Greece shall be a new-born star ! 



SEVENTY-THIRD LESSON. 

" to arms !" — Park Benjamin. 

Awake ! arise, ye men of might I 
The glorious hour is nigh — 

Your eagle pauses in his flight, 
And screams his battle-cry. 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



From north to south, from east to west, 
Send back an answering cheer, 

And say farewell to peace and rest, 
And banish doubt and fear. 

Arm ! arm ! your country bids you arm ! 

Fling out your banners free — 
Let drum and trumpet sound alarm. 

O'er mountain, plain, and sea ! 
# # # # # . # '# 
Go, vindicate your country's fame ! 

Avenge your country's wrong ! 
The sons should own a deathless name, 

To whom such sires belong. 

The kindred of the noble dead 

As noble deeds should dare: 
The fields whereon their blood was shed. 

A deeper stain must bear. 

To arms ! to arms ! ye men of might ! 

Away from home, away ! 
The first and foremost in the fight 

Are sure to win the day ! 

SEVENTY-FOURTH LESSON. 
make way for liberty. — Montgomery. 

" Make way for liberty f" — he cried ; 
Made way for liberty, and died ! 

It must not be : this day, this hour, 
Annihilates the oppressor's power ! 
All Switzerland is in the field, 
She will not fly, she cannot yield — 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION, 

She must not fall ; her better fate 
Here gives her an immortal date. 
Few were the numbers she could boast ; 
But every freeman was a host, 
And felt as though himself were he, 
On whose sole arm hung victory. 

It did depend on one indeed ; 
Behold him — Arnold Winkelried ! 
There sounds not to the trump of fame 
The echo of a nobler name. 
Unmarked he stood amid the throng, 
In rumination deep and long, 
Till you might see, with sudden grace, 
The very thought come o'er his face ; 
And, by the motion of his form, 
Anticipate the bursting storm ; 
And, by the uplifting of his brow, 
Tell where the bolt would strike, and how. 

But 't was no sooner thought than done ! 
The field was in a moment won : — 
" Make way for liberty !" he cried, 
Then ran, with arms extended wide, 
As if his dearest friends to clasp ; 
Ten spears he swept within his grasp : 
" Make way for liberty!'' he cried, 
Their keen points met from side to side ; 
He bowed amongst them like a tree, 
And thus made way for liberty. 

Swift to the breach his comrades fly ; 
" Make way for liberty !" they cry, 
And through the Austrian phalanx dart, 
As rushed the spears through Arnold's heart 
While, instantaneous as his fall, 
Bout, ruin, panic, scattered all : 
J 0* 



114 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



An earthquake could not overthrow 
A city with a surer blow. 

Thus Switzerland again was free ; 
Thus death made way for liberty ! 

SEVENTY-FIFTH LESSON. 
THE EFFICIENCY OF WOMAN. J. aS JoneS. 

Under the guidance of Divine Providence, it has been the 
lot of woman to occupy an important position, and to exercise 
an imposing influence, in all reforms of modern times ; but 
particularly so in the events that have marked the history of 
our own country. To her perseverance and zeal are we in- 
debted for the means that enabled the energetic and philoso- 
phical Columbus to prosecute his first adventurous voyage 
over unknown seas, in search of a land that was deemed to 
have no existence, but in the imagination of a few visionary 
enthusiasts. The first Pilgrims were induced to seek a home 
upon that shore her munificence had aided to discover ; and 
her forbearance and devotion cheered that home, softened 
the bitterness of exile, and awoke new hopes, new ideas, new 
objects, which eventually resulted in preserving the nucleus 
of a mighty nation, whose power is hereafter to rule the des- 
tinies and shape the institutions of civilized man. 

Shall we turn over a few pages more of our national his- 
tory, and observe the young giant of the West she had as- 
sisted to rear in the wilderness, preparing to combat against 
the Colossus of the Old World, in defence of the rights of 
man and the liberty of our species. Do we find woman 
wanting at this time, although she was well aware that the 
struggle was to her to be one of privation, affliction, and dis- 
tress, in which the dearest ties would be severed, and the 
holiest associations of religion and kindred scattered to the 
wind by the bloody hand of carnage and devastation ? No, 



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115 



in all things the women of the Kevolution were true to their 
country, to their God, and to themselves. The same fair 
hand that girded the sabre on the soldier of Freedom, sought 
upon the blood-stained field for the wounded, and crowned 
with victorious laurel the brow of the triumphant warrior. 
Nor did her exertions in her country's cause cease when suc- 
cess crowned our efforts, and peace, with her " downy pinion," 
spread repose over an exhausted and distressed land. 

A mighty wilderness was to be subdued, and the fertile 
and bounteous West offered her allurements to the hardy 
and adventurous citizen : again we see woman forsaking the 
ease and luxury of refinement to be the companion of the 
pioneer, who, guided by the star of a nation's destiny, onward 
works his way, advancing Christianity and civilization even 
to the far-off shores of the Pacific Ocean ; yes, even there, 
amidst the rank foliage of the primitive forests, surrounded 
by the cunning and treacherous aborigines, is woman to be 
foand, assisting man in his toil, cheering his home, enliven- 
ing his fireside, nursing him in sickness, consoling him in 
affliction, and rejoicing in his success ; and now that cities, 
towns and villages abound, this great West offers to the op- 
pressed of every nation a home, where, free from tyranny 
and its concomitant evils, they may in peace reap the fruit 
of their industry, and worship God according to the dictates 
of conscience. But a new victory is now to be achieved, 
new trophies are to be gained, the physical obstacles that 
stood in the path of our national greatness have been sub- 
dued, and the progressive spirit of our race has directed their 
energies towards the subjugation of vice, and that triumph 
of moral principle that alone can render a people mighty and 
happy. 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



SEVENTY-SIXTH LESSON. 
ye sons of sires. — Per civ ah 

Ye sons of sires, who fought and bled 

For liberty and glory, 
Whose fame shall ever wider spread 

Till Time is bent and hoary — 
Awake to meet the invading foe ! 

Rouse at the call of danger ! 
Beat down again his standard low, 

And backward hurl the stranger ! 

They knew no fear, those sires of old — 

'Mid swords and bayonets clashiog, 
Still high they bore their banner's fold, 

Its stars, like lightnings flashing. 
Be like those sires ! — With freeborn might 

Renew the deeds of story ! 
Who lives, shall win a wreath of light — 

Who falls, shall sleep in glory ! 

SEVENTY-SEVENTH LESSON. 
fourth of july.— Mrs. Sigourney. 

Wild was the battle strife, 
And loud the threat of foes, 

When Liberty to healthful life 
With our young country rose ; 

But now her banner proud 

Floats high, from zone to zone, 

A constellation on the cloud 
By all the nations known. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 



117 



And we have come, to greet 
The birth-day of our land, 
With joyous hearts, and thronging feet, 
A young and happy band. 

No warrior's shout is poured 

To daunt these festal hours ; 
Instead of flashing spear and sword, 

We bring the tinted flowers. 

Like them our love shall root 

In sunbeam and in blast, 
And richly bend with patriot fruit 

While fleeting life shall last. 

SEVENTY-EIGHTH LESSON. 
the survivors of the revolution. — E. Everett. 

Let us not forget, on the return of this eventful day, the 
men, who, when the conflict of counsel was over, stood for- 
ward in that of arms. Yet let me not, by faintly endeavor- 
ing to sketch, do deep injustice to the story of their exploits. 
The efforts of a life would scarce suffice to paint out this 
picture, in all its astonishing incidents, in all its mingled 
colors of sublimity and wo, of agony and triumph. 

But the age of commemoration is at hand. The voice of 
our fathers' blood begins to cry to us, from beneath the soil 
which it moistened. Time is bringing forward, in their 
proper relief, the men and the deeds of that high-sonled 
day. The generation of contemporary worthies is gone ; the 
crowd of the unsignalized great and good disappears ; and 
the leaders in war as well as council are seen, in Fancy's 
eye, to take their stations on the mount of Remembrance. 

They come from the embattled cliffs of Abraham ; they 
start from the heaving sods of Bunker's Hill ; they gather 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



from the blazing lines of Saratoga and Yorktown, from the 
blood-dyed waters of the Brandywine, from the dreary 
snows of Valley Forge, and all the hard-fought fields of the 
war. With all their wounds and all their honors, they rise 
and plead with us for their brethren who survive ; and bid 
us, if indeed we cherish the memory of those who bled in 
our cause, to show our gratitude, not by sounding words, 
but by stretching out the strong arm of the country's pros- 
perity, to help the veteran survivors gently down to their 
graves. 



SEVENTY-NINTH LESSON. 
LIFE WITHOUT FREEDOM. MoOTC. 

From life without freedom, oh ! who would not fly ? 
For one day of freedom, oh ! who would not die ? 
Hark ! hark ! 'tis the trumpet, the call of the brave, 
The death-song of tyrants and dirge of the slave. 
Our country lies bleeding — oh ! fly to her aid ; 
One arm that defends is worth hosts that invade. 
From life without freedom, oh ! who would not fly % 
For one day of freedom, oh ! who would not die ? 

In death's kindly bosom our last hope remains — 
The dead fear no tyrants, the grave has no chains ! 
On, on to the Combat ! the heroes that bleed 
For virtue and mankind are heroes indeed. 
And oh ! even if Freedom from this world be driven, 
Despair not — at least we shall find her in heaven. 
In death's kindly bosom our last hope remains, 
The dead fear no tyrants, the grave has no chains. 



SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 



EIGHTIETH LESSON. 
ODE FOR INDEPENDENCE. 

When Freedom, midst the battle storm, 

Her weary head reclined, 
And round her fair, majestic form, 

Oppression fain had 'twined, 
Amid the din beneath the cloud, 

Great Washington appeared, 
With daring hand rolled back the shroud, 

And thus the sufferer cheered : 

" Spurn, spurn despair ! be great, be free ! 

With giant strength arise ; 
Stretch, stretch thy pinions, Liberty, 

Thy flag plant in the skies ! 
Clothe, clothe thyself in Glory's robe, 

Let stars thy banners gem ; 
Rule, rule the sea — possess the globe — 

Wear Victory's diadem ! 

" Go and proclaim a world is born, 

Another orb gives light ; 
Another sun illumes the morn, 

Another star the night : 
Be just, be brave ! and let thy name 

Henceforth Columbia be ; 
Wear, wear the oaken wreath of fame, 

The wreath of Liberty." 

He said — and lo ! the stars of night 

Forth to her banner flew ; 
And morn, with pencil dipp'd in light, 

Her blushes on it drew ; 
Columbia's eagle seized the prize, 

And, gloriously unfurled, 
Soared with it to his native skies, 
And waved it o'er the world. 



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SELECTIONS FOR READING. 



CHAPTER XII. 

SELECTIONS FOR READING. 

Note. — The sign of the rhetorical pause ( | ) is omitted in the following selections, 
as a due attention to it in the foregoing, will enable the pupil to make the proper pau- 
ses without it. 

EIGHTY-FIRST LESSON. 
MIDNIGHT MUSINGS. W. Irving. 

I am now alone in my chamber. The family have long since 
retired. I have heard their steps die away, and the doors clap 
to after them. The murmur of voices and the peal of remote 
laughter no longer reach the ear. The clock from the church, 
in which so many of the former inhabitants of this house lie 
buried, has chimed the awful hour of midnight. 

I have sat by the window and mused upon the dusky land- 
scape, watching the lights disappearing one by one from the 
distant village ; and the moon rising in her silent majesty, and 
leading up all the silver pomp of heaven. As I have gazed 
upon these quiet groves and shadowing lawns, silvered over 
and imperfectly lighted by streaks of dewy moonshine, my 
mind has been crowded by " thick coming fancies" concerning 
those spiritual beings which 

" ■ — Walk the earth 

Unseen both when we wake and when we sleep." 

Are there, indeed, such beings ? Is this space between us • 
and the Deity filled up by innumerable orders of spiritual 
beings, forming the same gradations between the human sou] 
and divine perfection, that we see prevailing from humanity 
down to the meanest insect ? It is a sublime and beautiful 
doctrine inculcated by the early fathers, that there are guardian 
angels appointed to watch over cities and nations, to take care 
of good men, and to guard and guide the steps of helpless in- 
fancy. Even the doctrine of departed spirits returning to visit 
the scenes and beings which were dear to them during the 
bodies' existence, though it has been debased by the absurd 



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121 



superstitions of the vulgar, in itself is awfully solemn and sub- 
lime. 

. However lightly it may be ridiculed, yet, the attention invo- 
luntarily yielded to it whenever it is made the subject of 
serious discussion, and its prevalence in all ages and countries, 
even among newly discovered nations that have had no pre- 
vious interchange of thought with other parts of the world, 
prove it to be one of those mysterious and instinctive beliefs, 
to which, if left to ourselves, we should naturally incline. 

In spite of all the pride of reason and philosophy, a vague 
doubt will still lurk in the mind, and perhaps will never be 
eradicated, as it is a matter that does not admit of positive de- 
monstration. Who yet has been able to comprehend and de- 
scribe the nature of the soul ; its mysterious connection with 
the body ; or in what part of the frame it is situated ? We know 
merely that it does exist : but whence it came, and when it 
entered into us, and how it is retained, and where it is seated, 
and how it operates, are all matters of mere speculation, and 
contradictory theories. If, then, we are thus ignorant of this 
spiritual essence, even while it forms a part of ourselves, and 
is continually present to our consciousness, how can we pre- 
tend to ascertain or deny its powers and operations, when re- 
leased from its fleshly prison-house ? 

Everything connected with our spiritual nature is full of 
doubt and difficulty. " We are fearfully and wonderfully made ;" 
we are surrounded by mysteries, and we are mysteries even to 
ourselves. It is more the manner in which this superstition 
has been degraded, than its intrinsic absurdity, that has brought 
it into contempt. Raise it above the frivolous purposes to 
which it has been applied, strip it of the gloom and horror with 
which it has been enveloped, and there is none, in the whole 
circle of visionary creeds, that could more delightfully elevate 
the imagination, or more tenderly affect the heart. It would 
become a sovereign comfort at the bed of death, soothing the 
bitter tear wrung from us by the agony of mortal separation. 

What could be more consoling than the idea, that the souls 
of those we once loved were permitted to return and watch 
over our welfare ? — that affectionate and guardian spirits sat by 
our pillows when we slept, keeping a vigil over our most help- 
11 



122 



SELECTIONS FOR READING. 



less hours ? — that beauty and innocence, which had languished 
into the tomb, yet smiled unseen around us, revealing them- 
selves in those blest dreams wherein we live over again the 
hours of past endearments ? A belief of this kind would, I 
should think, be a new incentive to virtue, rendering us cir- 
cumspect, even in our most secret moments, from the idea that 
those we once loved and honored were invisible witnesses of 
all our actions. 

It would take away, too, from that loneliness and destitu- 
tion, which we are apt to feel more and more as we get on in 
our pilgrimage through the wilderness of this world, and find 
that those who set forward with us lovingly and cheerily, on 
the journey, have one by one dropped away from our side. 
Place the superstition in this light, and I confess I should like 
to be a believer in it. — I see nothing in it that is incompatible 
with the tender and merciful nature of onr religion, or revolting 
to the wishes and affections of the heart. 

There are departed beings that I have loved as I never again 
shall love in this world ; that have loved me as I never again 
shall be loved. If such beings do even retain in their blessed 
spheres the attachments which they felt on earth ; if they take 
an interest in the poor concerns of transient mortality, and are 
permitted to hold communion with those whom they have 
loved on earth, I feel as if I could receive their visitation with 
the most solemn but unalloyed delight. 

In truth, such visitations would be too happy for this world : 
they would take away from the bounds and barriers that hem 
us in and keep us from each other. Our existence is doomed 
to be made up of transient embraces and long separations 
The most intimate friendship — of what brief and scattered por- 
tions of time does it consist ! We take each other by the 
hand; and we exchange a few words and looks of kindness ; 
and we rejoice together for a few short moments ; and then 
days, months, years intervene, and we have no intercourse 
with each other. Or if we dwell together for a season, the 
grave soon closes its gates, and cuts off all further communion ; 
and our spirits must remain in separation and widowhood, 
until they meet again in that more perfect state of being, where 
soul shall dwell with soul, and there shall be no such thing as 
death, or absence, or any other interruption of our union 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY 



123 



EIGHTY-SECOND LESSON. 

THE DYING ARCHER.— R. C, WciteVSton. 

The day has near ended, the light quivers through 
The leaves of the forest, which bend with the dew ; 
The flowers bow in beauty, the smooth-flowing stream, 
Is gliding as softly as thoughts in a dream ; 
The low room is darkened, there breathes not a sound, 
While friends in their sadness are gathering round ; 
Now out speaks the Archer, his course well nigh done, 
" Throw, throw back the lattice,* and let in the sun 

The lattice is opened ; and now the blue sky 

Brings joy to his bosom, and fire to his eye ; 

There stretches the greenwood, where, year after year, 

He " chased the wild roe-buck and followed the deer." 

He gazed upon mountain, and forest, and dell, 

Then bowed he, in sorrow, a silent farewell : 

" And when we are parted, and when thou art dead, 

Oh where shall we lay thee ?" his followers said. 

Then up rose the Archer, and gazed once again 

On far-reaching mountain, and river, and plain ; 

" Now bring me my quiver,f and tighten my bow, 

And let the winged arrow my sepulchre show !" 

Out, out through the lattice, the arrow has passed, 

And in the far forest has lighted at last, 

And there shall the hunter in slumber be laid, 

Where wild-deer are bounding beneath the green shade. 

His last words are finished : his spirit has fled, 
And now lies in silence the form of the dead; 
The lamps in the chamber are nickering dim, 
And sadly the mourners are chanting their hymn ; 
And now to the greenwood, and now on the sod, 
Where lighted the arrow, the mourners have trod ; 
And thus by the river, where dark forests wave, 
That noble old Archer hath found him a grave ! 



Lattice, a window of grate- work. 



* Quiver, a case for arrows. 



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SELECTIONS FOR READING. 



EIGHTY-THIRD LESSON. 

the American flag. — J. R. Drake. 

When Freedom, from her mountain height, 

Unfurled her standard to the air, 
She tore the azure* robe of night, 

And set the stars of glory there ; 
She mingled with the gorgeous dyes 
The milky baldricf of the skies, 
And striped its pure celestial white, 
With streakings of the morning light. 
Then, from his mansion in the sun, 
She called her eagle-bearer down, 
And gave into his mighty hand 
The symbol of her chosen land. 

Majestic monarch of the cloud, 

Who rear'st aloft thy regal form, 
To hear the tempest-trumpings loud, 
And see the lightning-lances driven, 

When strike the warriors of the storm 
And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven, — 
Child of the Sun, to thee 't is given, 
To guard the banner of the free, 
To hover in the sulphur smoke, 
To ward away the bat tie -stroke, 
And bid its blendings shine afar, 
Like rainbows on the cloud of war, 
The harbinger^ of victory. 

Flag of the brave, thy folds shall fly, 
The sign of hope and triumph, high. 
When speaks the signal trumpet-tone, 
And the long line comes gleaming on 
(Ere yet the life-blood, warm and wet, 
Has dimmed the glist'ning bayonet), 



* Azure, blue, sky-colored. 

t Baldric [pronounced bawldrikj, a girdle 

X Harbinger, forerunner 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



125 



Each soldier's eye shall brightly turn 
To where thy meteor-glories burn, 
And, as his springing steps advance, 
Catch war and vengeance from the glance ; 
And, when the cannon-mournings loud 
Heave, in wild wreaths, the battle -shroud, 
And gory sabres rise and fall, 
Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall ! 
There shall thy victor-glances glow, 

And cowering* foes shall shrink beneath 
Each gallant arm that strikes below 

That lovely messenger of death. 

Flag of the seas, on ocean's wave 
Thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave, 
When death, careering on the gale, 
Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail, 
And frightened waves rush wildly back, 
Before the broadside's reeling rack ; 
The dying wanderer of the sea 
Shall look at once to heaven and thee, 
And smile to see thy splendors fly, 
In triumph, o'er his closing eye. 

Flag of the free hearts' only home, 

By angel-hands to valor given, 
Thy stars have lit the welkin f dome, 

And all thy hues were born in heaven 
For ever float that standard sheet ! 

Where breathes the foe, but falls before us, 
With Freedom's soil beneath our feet, 

And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us ? 

* Cowering, stooping, shrinking. 
+ Welkin dome, the sky, the regions of the air. 
11* 



126 



SELECTIONS FOR READING. 



EIGHTY-FOURTH LESSON. 
THE ANGEL OF THE LEAVES. H. F. Gould. 

" Alas ! alas !" said the sorrowing tree, " my beautiful robe 
is gone ! It has been torn from me. Its faded pieces whirl 
upon the wind ! they rustle beneath the squirrel's foot, as he 
searches for his nut. They float upon the passing stream, and 
on the quivering lake. Wo is me ! for my fair green vesture is 
gone. It was the gift of the angel of the leaves ! I have lost 
it, and my glory has vanished ; my beauty has disappeared. 
My summer hours have passed away. My bright and come- 
ly garment, alas ! it is rent in a thousand parts. Who will 
weave me such another ? Piece by piece, it has been stripped 
from me. Scarcely did I sigh for the loss of one, ere another 
wandered off on air. The sound of music cheers me no more. 
The birds that sang in my bosom were dismayed* at my desola- 
tion. They have flown away with their songs. 

" I stood in my pride. The sun brightened my robe with his 
smile. The zephyrsf breathed softly through its glassy folds ; 
the clouds strewed pearls among them. My shadow was wide 
upon the earth. My arms spread far on the gentle air; my 
head was lifted high ; my forehead was fair to the heavens. 
But now how changed ! Sadness is upon me ; my head is 
shorn, my arms are stripped ; I cannot throw a shadow on the 
ground. Beauty has departed ; gladness is gone out of my 
bosom ; the blood has retired from my heart, it has sunk into 
the earth. I am thirsty, I am cold. My naked limbs shiver in 
the chilly air. The keen blast comes pitiless among them. 
The winter is coming; I am destitute. Sorrow is my portion. 
Mourning must wear me away. How shall I account to the 
angel who clothed me, for the loss of his beautiful gift ?" 

The angel had been listening. In soothing accents he an- 
swered the lamentation. 

66 My beloved tree," said he, "be comforted ! I am by thee 
still, though every leaf has forsaken thee. The voice of glad- 
ness is hushed among the boughs, but let my whisper console 
thee. Thy sorrow is but for a season. Trust in me 5 keep my 



*Dismayed, terrified. 



I" Zephyrs, gentle west winds. 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



127 



promise in thy heart. Be patient and full of hope. Let the 
words I leave with thee, abide and cheer thee through the 
coming winter. Then I will return and clothe thee anew. 

«* The storm will drive over thee, the snow will sift through 
thy naked limbs. But these will be light and passing afflic- 
tions. The ice will weigh heavily on thy helpless arms ; but 
it shall soon dissolve in tears. It shall pass into the ground 
and be drunken by thy roots. Then it will creep up in secret 
beneath thy bark. It will spread into the branches it has op- 
pressed, and help me to adorn them. For I shall be here to 
use it. 

" Thy blood has now only retired for safety. The frost would 
chill and destroy it. It has gone into thy mother's bosom for 
her to keep it warm. Earth will not rob her offspring. She is 
a careful parent. She knows the wants of her children, and 
forgets not to provide for the least of them. 

" The sap that has for a while gone down, will make thy 
roots strike deeper and spread wider. It will then return to 
nourish thy heart. It will be renewed and strengthened. 
Then, if thou shalt have remembered and trusted in my promise, 
I will fulfil it. Buds shall shoot forth on every side of thy 
boughs. I will unfold for thee another robe. I will paint it 
and fit it in every part. It shall be a comely raiment. Thou 
shalt forget thy present sorrow. Sadness shall be swallowed 
up in joy. Now, my beloved tree, fare thee well for a season !' 

The angel was gone. The muttering winter drew near. 
The wild blast whistled for the storm. The storm came and 
howled around the tree. But the word of the angel was hidden 
in her heart; it soothed her amid the threatenings of the 
tempest. The ice cakes rattled upon her limbs ; they loaded 
and weighed them down. " My slender branches," said she, 
" let not this burden overcome you. Break not beneath this 
heavy affliction ; break not, but bend, till you can spring back 
to your places. Let not a twig of you be lost ! Hope must 
prop you up for a while, and the angel will reward your 
patience. You will move upon a softer air. Grace shall be 
again in your motion, and beauty hanging around you i" 

The scowling face of winter began to lose its features. The 
raging storm grew faint, and breathed its last. The restless 



128 



SELECTIONS FOR READING. 



clouds fretted themselves to atoms; they scattered upon the 
sky, and were brushed away. The sun threw down a bundle 
of golden arrows. They fell upon the tree ; the ice cakes 
glittered as they came. Every one was shattered by a shaft, 
and unlocked itself upon the limb. They were melted and gone 
The reign of spring had come. Her blessed ministers were 
broad in the earth ; they hovered in the air; they blended 
their beautiful tints, and cast a new created glory on the face 
of the heavens. 

The tree was rewarded for her trust. The angel was true to 
the object of his love. He returned ; he bestowed on her an- 
other robe. It was bright, glossy and unsullied.* The dust 
of summer had never lit upon it ; the scorching heat had not 
faded it ; the moth had not profanedf it. The tree stood again 
in loveliness ; she was dressed in more than her former beauty. 
She was very fair ; joy smiled around her on every side. The 
birds flew back to her bosom. They sang on every branch a 
hymn to the Angel of the Leaves. 



EIGHTY-FIFTH LESSON. 
THE SONG OF THE ANGELS AT BETHLEHEM. J.Grahame* 

Deep was the midnight silence in the fields 

Of Bethlehem ; hushed the folds ; save that at times 

Was heard the lambs' faint bleat ; the shepherds stretched 

On the green sward, surveyed the starry vault. 

" The heavens declare the glory of the Lord, 

The firmament shows forth thy handiwork f 

Thus they their hearts attuned to the most High ; 

When suddenly a splendid cloud appeared, 

As if a portion of the milky way 

Descended slowly in the spiral course ; 

Near and more near it draws ; then, hovering, floats 

High as the soar of eagles, shedding bright 

Upon the folded flocks a heavenly radiance. 

From whence was uttered loud, yet sweet, a voice : 

* Unsullied, not stained. f Profaned, injured. 



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129 



" Fear not, I bring good tidings of great joy , 

For unto you is born this day a Saviour ! 

And this shall be a sign to you : the babe 

Laid lowly in a manger ye shall find :" 

The angel spake, when, lo ! upon the cloud, 

A multitude of seraphim enthroned, 

Sang praises, saying, 44 glory to the Lord 

On high : on earth be peace, good will to men." 

With sweet response* harmoniously they choired ;f 

And while with heavenly harmony the song 

Arose to God, more bright the buoyant throng 

Illumed the land : the prowling lion stops, 

Awe-struck, with mane upreared, and flattened head ; 

And without turning, backward on his steps 

Recoils,! aghast, into the desert gloom. 

A trembling joy the astonished shepherds prove, 

As heavenward re-ascends the vocal blaze 

Triumphantly ; while by degrees the strain 

Dies on the ear, that self-deluded, listens, 

As if a sound so sweet could never die. 



EIGHTY-SIXTH LESSON. 

life : an allegory.*— v7i G. Percival. 

It is now Morning. Still and glassy lies the lake, within its 
green and dew-sprent§ shores. Light mist hangs around, like a 
skiey veil, and only reveals the uncertain outlines of woods 
and hills. The warm vernal j| air is just stirring in the valleys, 
but has not yet ruffled the water's mirror. Turn the eye upward 
— the misty vault opens into the calm, clear heavens, over which 
there seems suffusedir a genial** spirit's breath. Far distant on 
the horizon flash out the gilded and reddening peaks ; and from 
yonder crown of snow, a sudden radiance announces the risen 
sun. Now in the east stream the golden rays through the soft 

* Response, answer. || Vernal, belonging to spring, 

t Choired, sung in a choir. *T Suffused, overspread. 

% Recoils, rushes back. ** Genial, cheerful 
$ Sprent, sprinkled. 



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SELECTIONS FOR READING. 



blue vapor. The breeze freshens, and comes loaded with fra- 
grance from the woods. A faint, dark curl sweeps over the 
water ; the mist rolls up, lifts itself above meadow and hill, and 
in gathered folds hangs light around the mountains. Away on 
the level lake, till it meets the sky, silvery gleams* the sheeted 
wave, sprinkled with changeful stars, as the ever-rising breeze 
breaks it in ripples. Now the pennonf that hung loose around 
the mast rises and fitfully floats. We spread the sail, and, cast- 
ing off imm the shore, glide out with cheerful hearts on our 
voyage Before us widens the lake ; rock after rock receding 
back on either hand, and opening between, still bays, hung 
round with sparkling woods, or leading through green meadow 
vistas to blue sunny hills. 

It is now Noon. In the middle lake speeds the bark over 
light-glancing waves. Dark opens down the clear depth. 
White toss the crests of foam, — and, as the sail stoops to the 
steady wind, swift flies the parted water round the prow, and 
rushing pours behind the stern. The distant shores glow bright 
in the sun, that alone in the heaven looks unveiled with 
vivifyingt goodness over the earth. How high and broad 
swells the sky ! The agitated lake tosses like a wide field of 
snowy blossoms. Sweep after sweep of the long-retiring shores — 
hill gleaming over hill, up to the shadowy m'ountains — and over 
these Alpine§ needles, shooting pearly white into the bound- 
less azure || — all lie still and happy under the ever-smiling sun. 

And now it is Evening. The sun is sinking behind the dark 
mountains, and clouds scattered far in the east float soft in rosy 
light. The sun is now hidden, and strong and wide sweeps up 
its golden flame, like the holy blaze of a funeral pile. The 
breeze slackens — the waves subside in slumber — and slowly the 
bark steers into its sheltering bay. Long shadows stretch from 
hill to valley — fall like dark curtains on the lake — and a solemn, 
subdued serenity broods, like a protecting spirit, over the hush- 
ed and quiet earth. Only the far summits yet retain their 
brightness. Faint blushes stain the eternal snows, recalling the 

* Gleams, shines with sudden flashes of light. 

t Pennon, a small flag. 

% Vivifying, making alive, animating 

§ Mpine, belonging to the Alps. 

j| Azure, blue color, the sky 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



131 



first dawning roses, like the memory of early joys in the tran 
quil moments of departing age. These, too, fade ; but the 
evening star looks bright from the blue infinite, and, like the 
herald* of a better world, leads us softly to our haven. 



EIGHTY-SEVENTH LESSON. 

the cloud Sh 6 lley. 

I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, 

From the seas and the streams ; 
I bear light shade for the leaves when laid 

In their noon-day dreams. 
From my wings are shaken the dews that waken 

The sweet birds every one, 
When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, 

As she dances about the sun. 
I wield the flail of lashing hail, 

And whiten the green plains under, 
And then again I dissolve it in rain, 

And laugh as I pass in thunder. 
T sift the snow on the mountains below, 

And their great pines groan aghast ; 
And all the night 'tis my pillow white, 

While I sleep in the arms of the blast 
Sublime on the towers of my skiey bowers, 

Lightning my pilot sits ; 
In a cavern under, is fettered the thunder, 

• It struggles and howls at fits ; 
Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion, 

This pilot is guiding me, 
Lured by the love of the geniif that move 

In the depths of the purple sea : 
Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills, 

Over the lakes and the plains, 
Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream, 

The spirit he loves remains ; 



* Herald, a harbinger, forerunner. 

t Oenii, imaginary beings of a grade between men and angels. 



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SELECTIONS FOR READING. 



And I all the while bask in heaven's blue smile, 

Whilst he is dissolving in rains. 
The sanguine sunrise, with his meteor eyes, 

And his burning plumes outspread, 
Leaps on the back of my sailing rack, 

When the morning star shines dead 
As on the jag of a mountain crag, 

Which an earthquake rocks and swings, 
An eagle alit one moment may sit 

In the light of its golden wings. 
And when sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath, 

Its ardors of rest and of love, 
And the crimson pall of eve may fall 

From the depth of heaven above, 
With wings folded I rest, on mine airy nest, 

As still as a brooding dove. 
That orbed maiden with white fire laden, 

Whom mortals call the moon, 
Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor, 

By the midnight breezes strewn ; 
And wherever the beat of her unseen feet, 

Which only the angels hear, 
May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof, 

The stars peep behind her and peer ; 
And I laugh to see them whirl and flee, 

Like a swarm of golden bees, 
When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent, 

Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas, 
Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high, 

Are each paved with the moon and these. 
I bind the sun's throne. with a burning zone, 

And the moon's with a girdle of pearl ; 
The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim, 

When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl. 
From cape to cape, with a bridge -like shape, 

Over a torrent sea, 
Sunbeam proof, I hang like a roof, 

The mountains its columns be. 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



133 



The triumphal arch through which I march 

With hurricane, fire and snow, 
When the powers of the air are chained to my chair, 

Is the million-colored bow ; 
The sphere-fire above its soft colors wove, 

While the moist earth was laughing below. 
I am the daughter of earth and water, 

And the nursling of the sky ; 
I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores : 

I change, but I cannot die. 



EIGHTY-EIGHTH LESSON. 

the broken heart. — Washington Irving. 

Every one must recollect the tragical story of young E , 

the Irish patriot ; it was too touching to be soon forgotten. 
During the troubles in Ireland, he was tried, condemned and 
executed, on a charge of treason. His fate made a deep im- 
pression on public sympathy. He was so young — so intelli- 
gent — so generous — so brave — so everything that we are apt 
to like in a young man. His conduct under trial, too, was so 
lofty and intrepid. The noble indignation with which he re- 
pelled the charge of treason against his country— the eloquent 
vindication of his name — and his pathetic appeal to posterity, 
in the hopeless hour of condemnation — all these entered deeply 
into every generous bosom, and even his enemies lamented 
the stern policy that dictated his execution. 

But there was one heart, whose anguish it would be impos- 
sible to describe. In happier days and fairer fortunes, he had 
won the affections of a beautiful and interesting girl, the 
daughter of a late celebrated Irish barrister. She loved him 
with the disinterested fervor of a woman's first and early love. 
When every worldly maxim arrayed itself against him ; when 
blasted in fortune, and disgrace and danger darkened around 
his name, she loved him the more ardently for his very suffer- 
ings. If, then, his fate cculd awaken the sympathy, even of 
his foes, what must have llien the agony of her whose whole 
soul was occupied by his image ! Let those tell who have 
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SELECTIONS FOR READING. 



had the portals of the tomb suddenly closed between them and 
the being they most loved on earth — who have sat at his thresh- 
old, as one shut out in a cold and lonely world, from whence 
all that was most lonely and loving had departed. 

But then the horrors of such a grave ! so frightful, so dis- 
honored ! There was nothing for memory to dwell on, that 
could soothe the pang of separation — none of those tender, 
though melancholy circumstances, that endear the parting 
scene — nothing to melt sorrow into those blessed tears, sent, 
like the dews of Heaven, to revive the heart in the parching 
hour of anguish. 

To render her widowed situation more desolate, she had in- 
curred her father's displeasure by her unfortunate attachment, 
and was an exile from the paternal roof. But could the sym- 
pathy and kind offices of friends have reached a spirit so 
shocked and driven in by horror, she would have experienced 
no want of consolation, for the Irish are a people of quick and 
generous sensibilities. The most delicate and cherishing at- 
tentions were paid her by families of wealth and distinction. 
She was led into society, and they tried by all kinds of occupa- 
tion and amusement to dissipate her grief, and wean her from 
the tragical story of her lover. But it was all in vain. There 
are some strokes of calamity that scathe and scorch the soul — 
that penetrate to the vital seat of happiness — and blast it, 
never again to put forth bud or blossom. She never objected 
to frequent the haunts of pleasure, but she was as much alone 
there as in the depths of solitude. She walked about in a sad 
reverie, apparently unconscious of the world around her. She 
carried with her an inward wo, that mocked at all the blan- 
dishments of friendship, and " heeded not the song of the 
charmer, charm he ever so wisely." 

The person who told me her story had seen her at a mas- 
querade. There can be no exhibition of far-gone wretchedness 
more striking and painful than to meet it in such a scene. To 
find it wandering like a spectre, lonely and joyless, where all 
around is gay — to see it dressed out in the trappings of mirth, 
and looking so wan and wo-begone, as if it had tried in vain 
to cheat the poor heart into a momentary forgetfulness of sor- 
row. .After strolling through t'Ke splendid rooms and giddy 



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135 



crowd with an air of utter abstraction, she sat herself down on 
the steps of an orchestra, and looking about for some time with 
a vacant air that showed her insensibility to the garish* scene, 
she began, with the capriciousness of a sickly heart, to warble 
a little plaintive air. She had an exquisite voice ; but on this 
occasion it was so simple, so touching, it breathed forth such 
a soul of wretchedness, that she drew a crowd mute and silent 
around her, and melted every one into tears. 

The story of one so true and tender, could not but excite 
great interest in a country remarkable for enthusiasm. It com- 
pletely won the heart of a brave officer, who paid his addresses 
to her, and thought that one so true to the dead could not but 
prove affectionate to the living. She declined his attentions, 
for her thoughts were irrevocably engrossed by the memory of 
her former lover. He, however, persisted hi his suit. He soli- 
cited not her tenderness, but her esteem. He was assisted by 
her conviction of his worth, and her sense of her own destitute 
%nd dependent situation ; for she was existing on the kindness 
of friends. In a word, he at length succeeded in gaining her 
hand, though with the solemn assurance that her heart was 
unalterably another's. 

He took her with him to Sicily, hoping that a change of 
scene might wear out the remembrance of early woes. She 
was an amiable and exemplary wife, and made an effort to be 
a happy one ; but nothing could cure the silent and devouring 
melancholy that had entered into her very soul. She wasted 
away in a slow but hopeless decline, and at length sunk into 
the grave, the victim of a broken heart. 

It was on her that Moore, the distinguished Irish poet, com- 
posed the following lines : 

She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps 

And lovers around her are sighing : 
But coldly she turns from their gaze, and weeps, 

For her heart in his grave is lying. 

She sings the wild songs of her dear native plains, 

Every note which he loved awaking — 
Ah ! little they think, who delight in her strains, 

How the heart of the minstrel is breaking ! 



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SELECTIONS FOR READING. 



He had lived for his love— for his country he died, 
They were ail that to life had entwined him — 

Nor soon shall the tears of his country be dried, 
Nor long will his love stay behind him ! 

Oh ! make her a grave where the sunbeams rest, 
When they promise a glorious morrow ; 

They'll shine o'er her sleep, like a smile from the west, 
From her own loved island of sorrow ! 



EIGHTY-NINTH LESSON. 

THE PILGRIM FATHERS JollYl PierpOTlt. 

The Pilgrim Fathers, — where are they ? 

The waves that brought them o'er 
Still roll in the bay, and throw their spray 

As they break along the shore : 
Still roll in the bay, as they roll'd that day 

When the Mayflower* moor'd below, 
When the sea around was black with storms, 

And white the shore with snow. 

The mists, that wrapp'd the Pilgrim's sleep, 

Still brood upon the tide ; 
And his rocks yet keep their watch by the deep, 

To stay its waves of pride. 
But the snow-white sail, that he gave to the gale 

When the heavens look'd dark, is gone ; — 
As an angel's wing, through ah opening cloud, 

Is seen, and then withdrawn. 

The Pilgrim exile, — sainted name ! 

The hill, whose icy brow 
Rejoiced when lie came, in the morning's flame*, 

In the morning's flame burns now. 
And the moon's cold light, as it lay that night 

On the hill-side and the sea, 
Still lies where he laid his houseless head ; — 

But the Pilgrim, — where is he ? 



* Mayflower, a ship so called. 



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137 



The Pilgrim Fathers are at rest ; 

When summer's throned on high, 
And the world's warm breast is in verdure* dress'd, 

Go, stand on the hill where they lie. 
The earliest ray of the golden day 

On that hallow'd spot is cast ; 
And the evening sun, as he leaves the world, 

Looks kindly on that spot last. 

The Pilgrim spirit has not fled ; 

It walks in noon's broad light ; 
And it watches the bed of the glorious dead, 

With their holy stars, by night. 
It watches the bed of the brave who have bled, 

And shall guard this ice-bound shore, 
Till the waves of the bay, where the Mayflower lay> 

Shall foam and freeze no more. 



NINETIETH LESSON. 

a sketch. — New Yorker. 

The first sensation wrought in the Revolutionists was the 
surprise of disappointed confidence. I can well imagine to 
myself the shock that these early demonstrations of tyranny 
gave them. Impoverished by war, debilitatedf by exertion, 
their agriculture suffering, their commerce unsettled, their 
currency deplorable, they must have been apoplexed with 
astonishment at this rapid succession of cruelties from the 
Parent Empire. This past, and the bitter, sickening grief of 
wounded affection and outraged! weakness followed. Then 
came the wintry gloom and passive listlessness of despair. The 
young men quitted their places of industry to mourn with their 
fathers, and all classes abandoned themselves for a season to 
the pressure of their wo. 

The curtain now rises, and reveals the first appearance of 

* Verdure, green color. J Outraged, treated with abuse or violence 

T Debilitated, weakened. 

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Revolution. A man stands upon the floor of the House of 
Delegates of Virginia. He turns an eye of fire around him— he 
trembles with some mighty emotion. That emotion, * * *, 
was the first breath of new-born Liberty ! She started into life 
at his inspiration, and the days of Tyranny were numbered ! 

The grandeur of that scene cannot be compassed* in one 
glance. He stood amid a grave and prudent body of men, 
conscious indeed of the wrongs of their country, but relying 
upon modest petition for redress. They had never let their 
imaginations ramble into visions of upright and chainless 
Independence. A thousand things forbade the idea. Their 
habits of thought and action, their pitiable weakness as a 
country, their disgust for war on account of recent and ex- 
hausting conflicts, all tended to indispose them for Freedom. 
They were, besides, legislating beneath the zealous eyes of 
royal deputies, who would not fail to call treason by its right 
name. They sat, as it were, under the glimmerings of the 
diadem. 

Who would dare, if so inclined, to stalk forth from their 
midst and throw down the gauntletf to the mightiest empire 
of the world — nay, to all the empires of the world — to prin- 
ciples as old as the great globe itself, interwoven with every 
page of past history, sanctioned by venerable ages, and proud 
and awful as the heavens ? Who would dare to leap on the 
moss-grown and frowning ramparts of Monarchy, and pluck 
down its blood-red flag ? Who would rush out from the 
security of submission, and, Sampson-like, grasp the lion by 
his mane ? It was the grandest moment of time — but God had 
reared up one to fill it. That man was Patrick Henry. 

I will not tarry upon a scene where History has so often 
lingered, and always with a solemnity bordering on the 
superstitious. I would it never had been detailed, but rather 
left to the imagination of posterity. I had rather the attitude, 
gesture, look, tone, position and costume of the god-like orator, 
had never been matters of precise description. It serves too 
much (pardon my extravagance) to familiarize him down to 
the level of humanity. The Pafrick Henry of that occasion 
should have been committed to the homage of Fancy. 



* Compassed, surrounded, fully viewed. f Throw down the gauntlet, to challenge. 



ELOCUTION MADE 1SI . 



139 



I will close with but a word. He opened his lips. His 
heart, big with the destinies of the world, struggled for a 
moment with doubt — no longer. The electric appeal shot 
forth — darted on — flashing fiercer and brighter, and growing 
and growing in overwhelming majesty, until the last words — 
" Give me Liberty or give me Death !" — filled up its measure 
of terrible might ; and the last link of the chain that had eternal- 
ly bound the form of Freedom was riven. He had finished his 
sublime task, the Revolution was afoot ! 



NINETY-FIRST LESSON. 

the disembodied spirit. — Wm. O. B. Peahody. 

Oh ! sacred star of evening, tell 
In what unseen celestial* spheref 
Those spirits of the perfect dwell, 
Too pure to rest in sadness here. 

Roam they the crystal fields of light, 
O'er paths by holy angels trod ; 
Their robes with heavenly lustre bright 
Their home the paradise of God ? 

Soul of the just ! and canst thou soar 
Amid those radiant spheres sublime, 
Where countless hosts of heaven adore, 
Beyond the bounds of space or time ? 

And canst thou join the sacred choir, 
Through heaven's high dome the song to raise, 
When seraphs strike the golden lyre, 
In ever- during notes of praise ? 

Oh ! who would heed the chilling blast, 
That flows o'er time's eventful sea, 
If bid to hail, its perils past, 
The bright wave of eternity ? 



* Celestial, heavenly 



t Sphere, globe, orb. 



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SELECTIONS FOR READING 



And who the sorrows would not bear 
Of such a transient* world as this, 
When hope displays, beyond its care, 
So bright an entrance into bliss ? 

NINETY-SECOND LESSON. 
COLONEL ISAAC HAYNES. 

After the city of Charleston had fallen into the hands of 
Lord Cornwallis,f his lordship issued a proclamation, requiring 
of the inhabitants of the colony that they should no longer take 
part in the contest, but continue peaceably at their homes, and 
they should be most sacredly protected in property and person. 

This was accompanied with an instrument of neutrality, 
which soon obtained the signatures of many thousands of tne 
citizens of South Carolina, among whom was Colonel Haynes, 
who now conceived that he was entitled to peace and security 
for his family and fortune. 

But it was not long before Cornwallis put a new construc- 
tion on the instrument of neutrality, denominating it a bond of 
allegiancef to the king, and called upon all who had signed it to 
take up arms against the Rebels / threatening to treat as desert- 
ers those who refused ! This fraudulent proceeding of Lord 
Cornwallis roused the indignation of every honorable and 
honest man. 

Colonel Haynes now being compelled, in violation of the 
most solemn compact, to take up arms, resolved that the 
invaders of his native country should be the objects of his 
vengeance. He withdrew from the British, and was invested 
with a command in the continental service ; but it was soon 
his hard fortune to be captured by the enemy and carried into 
Charleston. 

Lord Rawdon, the commandant, immediately ordered him to 
be loaded with irons, and after a sort of mock trial, he was 
sentenced to be hung ! This sentence seized all classes of 
people with horror and dismay. A petition, headed by the 



* Transient, passing away. | Allegiance, duty of a subject to his king. 

T Lord Cornwallis, a British commander 



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141 



British Governor Bull, and signed by a number of royalists, was 
presented in his behalf, but was totally disregarded. 

Tne ladies of Charleston, both whigs and tories, now united 
in a petition to Lord Rawdon, couched in the most eloquent 
and moving language, praying that the valuable life of Colonel 
Haynes might be spared ; but this also was treated with neglect 
It was next proposed that Colonel Haynes's children (the 
mother had recently deceased) should, in their mourning 
habiliments,* be presented to plead for the life of their only 
surviving parent. 

Being introduced into his presence, they fell on their knees, 
and with clasped hands and weeping eyes they lisped their 
father's name and pleaded most earnestly for his life, but in 
vain : the unfeeling man was still inexorable ! His son, a youth 
of thirteen, was permitted to stay with his father in prison, 
who beholding his only parent loaded with irons and con- 
demned to die, was overwhelmed hi grief and sorrow. 

" Why," said he, " my son, will you thus break your father's 
heart with unavailing sorrow ? Have I not often told you we 
came into this world to prepare for a better ? For that better 
life, my dear boy, your father is prepared. Instead then of 
weeping, rejoice with me, my son, that my troubles are so 
near an end. To-morrow I set oat for immortality. You will 
accompany me to the place of my execution, and, when I am 
dead, take and bury me by the side of your mother." 

The youth here fell on his father's neck, crying, " my 
father ! my father ! 1 will die with you ! I will die with you !" 
Colonel Haynes would have returned the strong embrace of his 
son, but, alas ! his hands were confined with irons. " Live," 
said he, " my son, live to honor God by a good life, live to 
serve your country ; and live to take care of your little sisters 
and brother !" 

The next morning Colonel Haynes was conducted to the 
place of execution. His son accompanied him. Soon as they 
came in sight of the gallows, the father strengthened himself, 
and said — " Now, my son, show yourself a man / That tree is the 
boundary of my life, and of all my life's sorrows. Beyond that the 
wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest. Don't lay too 



Habiliments, dresses 



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SELECTIONS FOR READING. 



much to heart our separation from you ; it will be but short. It was but 
Mtely your dear mother died. To-day 1 die, and you, my son, though 
but young, must shortly follow us" " Yes, my father," replied the 
broken-hearted youth, " I shall shortly follow you ; for indeed 
I feel that I cannot live long." 

On seeing therefore his father in the hands of the executioner,* 
and then struggling in the halter, — he stood like one trans- 
fixedf and motionless with horror. Till then he had wept in- 
cessantly, but as soon as he saw that sight, the fountain of his 
tears was stanched, and he never wept more. He died insane, 
and in his last moments often called on the name of his father 
in terms that wrung tears from the hardest hearts. 



NINETY-THIRD LESSON. 

SPIRIT OF FREEDOM. — PerCWdl. 

Spirit of Freedom ! who thy home hast made 
In wilds and wastes, where wealth has never trod. 
Nor bowed her coward head before her god, 
The sordid deity of fraudful trade ; 
Where power has never reared his iron brow, 
And glared his glance of terror, nor has blown 
The maddening trump of battle, nor has flown 
His blood-thirst eagles ; where no flatterers bow, 
And kiss the foot that spurns them ; where no throne, 
Bright with the spoils from nations wrested, towers, 
The idol of a slavish mob, who herd, 
Where largess feeds their sloth with golden showers, 
And thousands hang upon one tyrant's word — 

Spirit of Freedom ! thou, who dwell'st alone, 
Unblenched,{ unyielding, on the storm-beat shore, 
And findest a stirring music in its roar, 
And lookest abroad on earth and sea thy own- 
Far from the city's noxious§ hold, thy foot 
Fleet as the wild deer bounds, as if its breath 



* Executioner, one who puts to death by law. % Unblenched, unshrinking, 
t Transfixed, pierced through. § Noxious, hurtful, destructive 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



143 



Were but the rankest, foulest steam of death , 

Its soil were but the dunghill, where the root 

Of every poisonous weed and baleful tree 

Grew vigorously and deeply, till- their shade 

Had choked and killed each wholesome plant, and laid 

In rottenness the flower of Liberty — 

Thou fliest to the desert, and its sands 

Become thy welcome shelter, where the pure 

Wind gives its freshness to thy roving bands, 

And languid weakness finds its only cure ; 

Where few their wants, and bounded their desires, 

And life all spring and action, they display 

Man's boldest flights, and highest, warmest fires, 

And beauty wears her loveliest array — 

Spirit of Freedom ! I would with thee dwell, 
Whether on Afric's sand, or Norway's crags, 
Or Kansa's prairies,* for thou lovest them well, 
And there thy boldest daring never flags ; 
Or I would launch with thee upon the deep, 
And like the petrelf make the wave my home, 
And careless as the sportive sea-bird roam ; 
Or with the chamoisf on the Alp would leap, 
And feel myself upon the snow-clad height, 
A portion of that undimmed flow of light, 
No mist nor cloud can darken — ! with thee, 
Spirit of Freedom ! deserts, mountains, storms, 
Would wear a glow of beauty, and their forms 
Would soften into loveliness, and be 
Dearest of earth, — for there my soul is free. 



* Prairies, extensive tracts of land destitute of trees, 
t Petrel, a water fowl. 

t Chamois (pronounced Shamoy), a kind of goat 



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SELECTIONS FOR READING. 



NINETY-FOURTH LESSON. 
LAKES AND THE OCEAN G. Melleifl. 

There is ever a contrast between the lesser lakes and the 
great ocean. You can rarely, if ever, look upon the sea, when 
it is not heaving with the coming on, the height, or the dying 
of the tempest. There is always agitation within its mighty 
bosom. You see something at work there that tells of perpe- 
tual* unrestf — of a power within, that cannot be still. The sub- 
siding thunder of the storm that has passed away, is but the 
deep prelusivef music of another. 

But go in midsummer to the lake, embosomed§ among the 
hills, and gaze upon it when all the elements are in slumber, 
and I know not that you will find in nature a more beautiful 
picture of repose. There is no heaving billow there — no crest- 
ed wave breaking in foam upon the shore — no sound of de- 
parted storm, murmuring like some vast imprisoned spirit at its 
temporary subjection. But you see there a surface, silent as 
death — and as placid. The water lies spread before you, a 
perfect mirror ; and you see wooded summit and lonely vale 
— forest and field-tree and tower — cloud and sky, all gazing 
into its profound, as though enchanted with the loveliness of 
their own reflection. You see the beautiful and the grand 
mingling their wonders in solitude, and you feel how much 
more exquisite is the display, when it is perfected in the hour 
and home of Nature's quietness. 

Then, if you stand upon bank or shore at sunset, when its 
hundred hues are playing on the sky, and see the new heaven 
created in the depths below you, and witness its mockery of 
splendor, its fading colors and dying beams, till star begins to 
answer to star in the dark water, surely you are beholding 
something that Nature presents only in such hallowed spots in 
her empire — something of beauty and grandeur that she can 
never offer by the " vasty deep," — something — be it developed 
where it may, far beyond the witchery of the gifted pencil — 
something to rejoice in — something to be thankful for. 



* Perpetual, continual, never ceasing. 1 Prelusive, previous, serving to introduce 
t Unrest, disquiet. § Embosomed enclosed. 



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145 



NINETY-FIFTH LESSON. 
MARCO BOZZARIS. Halleck. 

At midnight, in his guarded tent, 

The Turk was dreaming of the hour, 
When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, 

Should tremble at his power. 
In dreams through camp and court, he bore 
The trophies* of a conqueror ; 

In dreams his song of triumph heard ; 
Then wore his monarch's signetf ring, 
Then pressed that monarch's throne — a king; 
As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, 

As Eden's garden bird. 

An hour passed on — the Turk awoke ; 

That bright dream was his last ; 
He woke — to hear his sentry 'sj shriek, 
" To arms ! they come ! the Greek ! the Greek !" 
He woke — to die midst flame and smoke, 
And shout, and groan, and sabre stroke, 

And death shots falling thick and fast 
As lightnings from the mountain cloud ; 
And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, 

Bozzaris cheer his band : — 
" Strike — till the last armed foe expires, 
Strike — for your altars and your fires, 
Strike — for the green graves of your sires, 

God — and your native land !" 

They fought — like brave men, long and well, 
They piled that ground with Moslem slain ; 

They conquered — but Bozzaris fell, 
Bleeding at every vein. 



* Trophies, things taken in battle from an enemy, 
f Signet ring, a ring containing the king's seal. 

13 



% Sentry, a soldier on guard. 



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SELECTIONS FOR READING. 



His few surviving comrades saw 

His smile when rang the proud hurrah, 

And the red field was won ; 
Then saw in death his eyelids close 
Calmly, as to a night's repose, 

Like flowers at set of sun. 



NINETY-SIXTH LESSON. 
SUBLIMITY OF MOUNTAIN SCENERY, Croty. 

Of all the sights that nature offers to the eye and mind of 
man, mountains have always stirred my strongest feelings. I 
have seen the Ocean, when it was turned up from the bottom 
by tempest, and noon was like night, with the conflict of the 
billows and the storm, that tore and scattered them in mist and 
foam across the sky. I have seen the Desert rise around me, 
and calmly, in the midst of thousands uttering cries of horror 
and paralyzed by fear, have contemplated the sandy pillars, 
coming like the advance of some gigantic city of conflagration 
flying across the wilderness, every column glowing with in- 
tense fire, and every blast death; the sky vaulted with gloom, 
the earth a furnace. 

But with me, the mountain — in tempest or in calm, the throne 
of the thunder, or with the evening sun painting its delist and 
declivitiesj in colors dipped in heaven — has been the source of 
the most absorbing sensations. — There stands magnitude, giv- 
ing the instant impression of a power above man — grandeur, 
that defies decay — antiquity, that tells of ages unnumbered — 
beauty, that the touch of time makes only more beautiful — use, 
exhaustless for the service of man — strength, imperishable as 
the globe ; — the monument of eternity, — the truest earthly em- 
blem of that ever-living, unchangeable, irresistible Majesty, by 
whom and for whom, all things were made ! 



* Paralyzed, deprived of motion, 
t Dells, valleys. 



% Declivities, descents, slopes. 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. H7 



NINETY-SEVENTH LESSON. 
MY MOTHER'S GRAVE. 

It was thirteen years since my mother's death, when, after 
a long absence from my native village, 1 stood beside the 
sacred monnd, beneath which I had seen her buried. Since 
that mournful period, great changes have come over me. My 
childish years have passed away ; and with them have passed 
my youthful character. The world was altered too ; and as I 
stood at my mother's grave, I could hardly realize that I was 
the same thoughtless, happy creature, whose cheek she so 
often kissed in her excess of tenderness. 

But the varied events of thirteen years had not effaced the 
remembrance of that mother's smile. It seemed as if I had 
seen her yesterday — as if the blessed sound of her voice was 
then in my ear. The gay dreams of my infancy and childhood 
were brought back so distinctly to my mind, that had it not 
been for one bitter recollection, the tears I shed would have 
been gentle and refreshing. The circumstance may seem a 
trifling one ; but the thought of it, even now, agonizes my 
heart — and I relate it that those who have parents to love them, 
may learn to value them as they ought. 

My mother had been ill a long time ; and I had become so 
much accustomed to her pale face and weak voice, that I was 
not frightened at them, as children usually are. At first, it is 
true, I had sobbed violently — for they told me that she would 
die ; but when, day after day, I returned from school, and 
found her the same, I began to believe she would always be 
spared to me. 

One day when I had lost my place in the class, and done 
my work wrong-side-outward, I came home discouraged and 
fretful. I went into my mother's chamber. She was paler 
than usual, — but she met me with the same affectionate smile 
that always welcomed my return. Alas ! when I look back 
through the lapse of thirteen years, I think my heart must have 
been stone, not to have been melted by it. 

She requested me to go down stairs, and bring her a glas*^ 
of water. I pettishly asked why she did not call the domestic 
to do it. With a look of mild reproach, which I shall never 



148 



SELECTIONS FOR READING. 



forget, if I live to be a hundred years old, she said, And will not 
my daughter bring a glass of water for her poor sick mother ?" 

I went and brought her the water ; but I did not do it kindly. 
Instead of smiling, and kissing her as I was wont to do, I set 
the glass down very quick and left the room. 

After playing a short time, I retired without bidding my 
mother " good night f but when alone in my room, in darkness 
and silence, I remembered how pale she looked, and how her 
faint voice trembled, when she said, " Will not my daughter 
bring a glass of water for her poor sick mother ?" I could not 
sleep ; and I stole into her chamber, to ask forgiveness. She 
had just sunk into an uneasy slumber ; and they told me I must 
not waken her. I did not tell any one what troubled me ; but 
stole back to my bed, resolved to rise early in the morning, and 
tell her how sorry I was for my conduct. 

The sun was shining brightly when I awoke, and hurrying 
on my clothes, 1 hastened to my mother's room. 

She was dead ! She never spoke to me more — never smiled 
upon me again ! And when I touched the hand that used to 
rest upon my head in blessing, it was so cold it made me start. 
I bowed down by her side, and sobbed in the bitterness of my 
heart. I thought then I wished I could die, and be buried with 
her ; and old as I now am, I would give worlds, were they 
mine to give, could my mother but have lived to tell me she 
forgave my childish ingratitude. But I cannot call her back ; 
and when I stand by her grave, and whenever I think of her 
manifold* kindness, the memory of the reproachful look she 
gave me, will " bite like a serpent and sting like an adder." 

NINETY-EIGHTH LESSON. 

tt I WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAY." W. Cutter. 

" It is true there are shadows as well as lights, clouds as well as sunshine, thorns 
as well as roses ; but it is a happy world after all." 

" I would not live alway !" — yet 'tis not that here 
There's nothing to live for, and nothing to love ; 

The cup of life's blessings, though mingled with tears, 
Is crowned with rich tokens of good from above : 



* Manifold, oft repeated. 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



149 



And dark though the storms of adversity rise, 
Though changes dishearten, and dangers appal, 

Each hath its high purpose, both gracious and wise, 
And a Father's kind providence rules over all. 

" T would not live alway !" and yet, oh, to die ! 

With a shuddering thrill how it palsies the heart ! 
We may love, we may pant for, the glory on high, 

Yet tremble and grieve from earth's kindred to part. 
There are ties of deep tenderness drawing us down, 

Which warm round the heart-strings their tendrils will 
weave ; 

And Faith, reaching forth for her heavenly crown, 
Still lingers, embracing the friends she must leave. 

" I would not live alway !" because I am sure 

There's a better, a holier rest in the sky ; 
And the hope that looks forth to that heavenly shore, 

Overcomes timid nature's reluctance to die. 

visions of glory, of bliss, and of love, 
Where sin cannot enter, nor passion enslave, 

Ye have power o'er the heart, to subdue or remove 
The sharpness of death, and the gloom of the grave ! 

" I would not live alway !" yet 'tis not that time, 

Its loves, hopes, and friendships, cares, duties, and joys, 
Yield nothing exalted, nor pure, nor sublime, 

The heart to delight, or the soul to employ ; 
No ! an angel might oftentimes sinlessly dwell 

'Mid the innocent l *scenes to life's pilgrimage given; 
And though passion and folly can make earth a hell, 

To the pure 'tis the emblem and gate -way of heaven. 

" I would not live alway !" and yet, while I stay 
In this Eden of time, 'mid these gardens of earth, 

I'd enjoy the sweet flowers and fruits as I may, 

And gain with their treasures whate'er they are worth : 

1 would live, as if life were a part of my heaven, 

I would love, as if love were a part of its bliss, 
And I'd take the sweet comforts, so lavishly given, 
As foretastes of that world, in portions, in this 
13* 



150 



SELECTIONS FOR READING. 



" I would not live alway !" yet willingly wait, 

Be it longer or shorter, life's journey to roam, 
Ever ready and girded, with spirits elate, 

To obey the first call that shall summon me home. 
yes 1 it is better, far better to go 

Where pain, sin, and sorrow can never intrude ; 
And yet I would cheerfully tarry below, 

And expecting the better, rejoice in the good. 



NINETY-NINTH LESSON. 

knowledge. — De Witt Clinton. 

Pleasure is a shadow, wealth is vanity, and power a 
pageant ;* but knowledge is ecstaticf in enjoyment, perennialt 
in fame, unlimited in space, and infinite in duration. In the 
performance of its sacred office, it fears no danger, spares no 
expense, omits no exertion. It scales the mountain, looks 
into the volcano, dives into the ocean ; perforates§ the earth, 
wings its flight into the skies, encircles the globe, explores the 
sea and land, contemplates the distant, examines the mmute, 
comprehends the great, ascends to the sublime : no place too 
remote for its grasp, no heavens too exalted for its reach. 



ONE HUNDREDTH LESSON. 

MOONLIGHT AND A FIELD OF BATTLE. Shelley. 

How beautiful this night ! the balmiest sigh 

Which vernal 1 1 zephyrs breathe in Evening's air, 

Were discord to the speaking quietude 

That wraps this moveless scene. Heaven's ebonlT vault, 

Studded with stars unutterably bright, 

Through which the moon's unclouded grandeur rolls, 

Seems like a canopy** which Love had spread, 

* Pageant, a pompous show. || Vernal, belonging to spring, 

t Ecstatic, transporting, very delightful. U Ebon, dark. 

X Perennial, durable, continual. ** Canopy, a covering spread over the head, 

$ Perforates bores or pierces through 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY , 



151 



To curtain her sleeping world. Yon gentle hills, 

Robed in a garment of untrodden snow ; 

Yon darksome rocks, whence icicles depend, 

So stainless, that their white and glittering spires 

Tinge not the moon's pure beam ; yon castled steep, 

Whose banner hangeth o'er the time-worn tower 

So idly, that rapt fancy deemeth it 

A metaphor* of peace ; — all form a scene 

Where musing Solitude might love to lift 

Her soul above this sphere of earthliness ; 

Where Silence undisturbed might watch alone, 

So cold, so bright, so still ! 

The orb of day, 
In southern climes, o'er ocean's waveless field 
Sinks sweetly smiling : not the faintest breath 
Steals o'er the unruffled deep ; the clouds of eve 
Reflect unmoved the lingering beam of day ; 
And Vesper'sf image on the western main 
Is beautifully still. To-morrow comes : 
Cloud upon cloud, in dark and deepening mass, 
Roll o'er the blackened waters ; the deep roar 
Of distant thunder mutters awfully ; 
Tempest unfolds its pinions o'er the gloom 
That shrouds the boiling surge ; the pitiless fiend, 
With all his winds and lightnings, tracks his prey ; 
The torn deep yawns — the vessel finds a grave 
Beneath its jaggedj gulf. 

Ah ! whence yon glare 
That fires the arch of heaven ? — that dark red smoke 
Bloating the silver moon ? The stars are quenched 
In darkness, and the pure spangling snow 
Gleams faintly through the gloom that gathers round ! 
Hark to that roar, whose swift and deafening peals 
In countless echoes through the mountains ring, 
Startling pale Midnight on her starry throne ! 
Nor swells the intermingling din ; the jar, 
Frequent and frightful, of the bursting bomb ; 



* Metaphor, a similitude, resemblance, 
t Vesper, the evening star, Venus. 



i Jagged, notched, uneven 



152 



SELECTIONS FOR READING. 



The falling beam, the. shriek, the groan, the shout, 
The ceaseless clangor, and the rush of men 
Inebriate with rage ! — loud and more loud 
The discord grows ; till pale Death shuts the scene, 
And, o'er the conqueror and the conquered, draws 
His cold and bloody shroud. Of all the men 
Whom day's departing beam saw blooming there, 
In proud and vigorous health — of all the hearts 
That beat with anxious life at sunset there — 
How few survive, how few are beating now ! 
All is deep silence, like the fearful calm 
That slumbers in the storm's portentous pause ; 
Save when the frantic wail of widowed love 
Comes shuddering on the blast, or the faint moan 
With which some soul bursts from the frame of clay 
Wrapped round its struggling powers. ( 

The grey morn 
Dawns on the mournful scene ; the sulphurous smoke 
Before the icy wind slow rolls away, 
And the bright beams of frosty morning dance 
Along the spangling snow. There tracks of blood, 
Even to the forest's depth, and scattered arms, 
And lifeless warriors, whose hard lineaments 
Death's self could change not, mark the dreadful path 
Of the outsallying victors : far behind 
Black ashes note where their proud city stood 
Within yon forest is a gloomy glen — 
Each tree which guards its darkness from the day, 
Waves o'er a warrior's tomb. 



ONE HUNDRED AND FIRST LESSON. 
ABSALOM.— Willis. 

The waters slept. Night's silvery veil hung low 

On Jordan's bosom, and the eddies curled 

Their glassy rings beneath it, like the still, 

Unbroken beating of the sleeper's pulse. 

The reeds bent down the stream : the willow leaves, 



ELOCUTIOiN MADE EASY. 



With a soft cheek upon the lulling tide, 
Forgot the lifting winds ; and the long stems, 
Whose flowers the water, like a gentle nurse, 
Bears on its bosom, quietly gave way, 
And leaned, in graceful attitudes, to rest. 
How strikingly the course of nature tells, 
By its light heed of human suffering, 
That it was fashioned for a happier world ! 
King David's limbs were weary. He had fled 
From far Jerusalem ; and now he stood, 
With his faint people, for a little rest 
Upon the shore of Jordan. The light wind 
Of morn was stirring, and he bared his brow 
To its refreshing breath ; for he had worn 
The mourner's covering, and he had not felt 
That he could see his people until now. 
They gathered round him on the fresh green bank, 
And spoke their kindly words ; and, as the sun 
Rose up in heaven, he knelt among them there, 
And bowed his head upon his hands to pray. 
Oh ! when the heart is full — when bitter thoughts 
Come crowding thickly up for utterance, 
And the poor common words of courtesy 
Are such a very mockery — how much 
The bursting heart may pour itself in prayer! 
He prayed for Israel ; and his voice went up 
Strongly and fervently. He prayed for those 
Whose love had been his shield ; and his deep tones 
Grew tremulous. But, oh, for Absalom — 
For his estranged, misguided Absalom — 
The proud, bright being, who had burst away, 
In all his princely beauty, to defy 
The heart that cherished him — for him he poured, 
In agony that would not be controlled, 
Strong supplication, and forgave him there, 
Before his God, for his deep sinfulness. 
******* 

The pall was settled. He who slept beneath 
Was straightened for the grave ; and, as the folds 



154 



SELECTIONS FOR READING. 



Sunk to the. still proportions, they betrayed 

The matchless symmetry* of Absalom. 

His hair was yet unshorn, and silken curls 

Were floating round the tassels as they swayed 

To the admitted air, as glossy now 

As when, in hours of gentle dalliance, bathing 

The snowy fingers of Judea's girls. 

His helm was at his feet : his banner, soiled 

With trailing through Jerusalem, was laid 

Reversed, beside him ; and the jewelled hilt, 

Whose diamonds lit the passage of his blade, 

Rested, like mockery, on his covered brow. 

The soldiers of the king trod to and fro, 

Clad in the garb of battle ; and their chief, 

The mighty Joab, stood beside the bier, 

And gazed upon the dark pall steadfastly, 

As if he feared the slumberer might stir. 

A slow step startled him. He grasped his blade 

As if a trumpet rang ; but the bent form 

Of David entered, and he gave command, 

In a low tone, to his few followers, 

And left him with his dead. The king stood stiL 

Till the last echo died : then, throwing off 

The sackcloth from his brow, and laying back 

The pall from the still features of his child, 

He bowed his head upon him, and broke forth 

Tn the resistless eloquence of wo ! — 

" Alas ! my noble boy ! that thou shouldst die ! 

Thou, who wert made so beautifully fair ! 
That death should settle in thy glorious eye, 

And leave his stillness in this clustering hair ! 
How could he mark thee for the silent tomb, 

My proud boy, Absalom ! 

" Cold is thy brow, my son ! and I am chill, 
As to my bosom I have tried to press thee 

How was I wont to feel my pulses thrill 

Like a rich harp -string, yearning to caress thee, 



* Symmetry, proportion 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



155 



Ind hear thy sweet * my father' from these dumb 
And cold lips, Absalom ! 

" The grave hath won thee. I shall hear the gush 
Of music, and the voices of the young; 

And life will pass me in the mantling blush, 
And the dark tresses to the soft winds flung; — 

But thou no more, with thy sweet voice, shalt come 
To meet me, Absalom ! 

" And, oh ! when I am stricken, and my heart, 
Like a bruised reed, is waiting to be broken, 

How will its love for thee, as I depart, 

Yearn for thine ear to drink its last deep token ! 

It were so sweet, amid death's gathering gloom, 
To see thee, Absalom ! 

" And now, farewell ! 'T is hard to give thee up, 
With death so like a gentle slumber on thee : — 

And thy dark sin ! — Oh ! I could drink the cup, 
If from this wo its bitterness had won thee. 

May God have called thee, like a wanderer, home, 
My erring Absalom !" 

He covered up his face, and bowed himself 
A moment on his child : then, giving him 
A look of melting tenderness, he clasped 
His hands convulsively, as if in prayer ; 
And, as a strength were given him of God, 
He rose up calmly, and composed the pall 
Firmly and decently, and left him there, 
As if his rest had been a breathing sleep. 



156 



DIALOGUES. 



DIALOGUES. 

ONE HUNDRED AND SECOND LESSON. 
CHARLES II. AND WILLIAM PENN 

Charles. Well, friend William ! 1 have sold you a noble pro- 
vince in North America; but still I suppose you have no 
thoughts of going thither yourself. 

Penn. Yes, I have, I assure thee, friend Charles; and I am 
iust come to bid thee farewell. 

Char. What ! venture yourself among the savages of North 
America! Why, man, what security have you that you will 
not be in their war-kettle in two hours after setting foot on 
their shores ? 

Penn. The best security in the world. 

Char. I doubt that, friend William ; I have no idea of any 
security against those cannibals, but in a regiment of good sol- 
diers, with their muskets and bayonets. And mind I tell you 
beforehand, that, with all my good will for you and your 
family, to whom I am under obligations, I will not send a sin- 
gle soldier with you. 

Penn. I want none of thy soldiers, Charles : I depend on 
something better than thy soldiers. 

Char. Ah ! and what may that be ? 

Penn. Why, I depend upon themselves — on the workings of 
their own hearts—on their notions of justice — on their moral 
sense. 

Char. A fine thing, this same moral sense, no doubt ; but I 
fear you will not find much of it among the Indians of North 
America. 

Penn And why not among them, as well as others ? 

Char. Because, if they had possessed any, they would not 
have treated my subjects so barbarously as they have done. 

Penn. That is no proof to the contrary, friend Charles. Thy 
subjects were the aggressors. When thy subjects first went to 
North America, they found these poor people the fondest and 
kindest creatures in the world. Every day they would watch 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



157 



for them to come ashore, and hasten to meet them, and feast 
them on the best fish, and venison, and corn, which was all 
that they had. In return for this hospitality of the savages, as 
we call them, thy subjects, termed Christians, seized on their 
country and rich hunting-grounds, for farms for themselves J 
Now, is it to be wondered at, that these much injured people 
should have been driven to desperation by such injustice ; and 
that, burning with revenge, they should have committed some 
excesses ? 

Char. Well, then, I hope you will not complain when they 
come to treat you in the same manner. 
Penn. I am not afraid of it. 

Char. Ah ! how will you avoid it ? You mean to get their 
hunting-grounds too, I suppose ? 

Penn. Yes, but not by driving these poor people away from 
them. 

Char. No, indeed ! How then will you get the lands ? 

Penn. I mean to buy their lands of them. 

Char. Buy their lands of them ! Why, man, you have already 
bought them of me. 

Penn. Yes, I know I have, and at a dear rate, too ; but I did 
it only to get thy good will, not that I thought thou hadst any 
right to their lands. 

Char. How, man ! no right to their lands ! 

Penn. No, friend Charles, no right at all : what right hast 
thou to their lands ? 

Char. Why, the right of discovery, to be sure ; the right 
which the pope and all Christian kings have agreed to give 
one another. 

Penn. The right of discovery ! A strange kind of right, in- 
deed ! Now, suppose, friend Charles, that some canoe-loads 
of these Indians, crossing the sea, and discovering thy island 
of Great Britain, were to claim it as their own, and set it up for 
sale over thy head, — what wouldst thou think of it ? 

Char. Why — why — why — I must confess, I should think it a 
piece of great impudence in them. 

Penn. Well, then, how canst thou, a Christian, and a Chris- 
tian prince too, do that which thou so utterly condemnest in 
these people, whom thou callest savages ? Yes, friend Charles; 
14 



158 



DIALOGUES. 



and suppose, again, that these Indians, on thy refusal to give 
up thy island of Great Britain, were to make war on thee, and, 
having weapons more destructive than thine, were to destroy 
many of thy subjects, and drive the rest away, — wouldst thou 
not think it horribly cruel ? 

Char. I must say that I should, friend William ; how can I 
say otherwise ? 

Penn. Well, then, how can I, who call myself a Christian, 
do what I should abhor even hi heathen ? No, I will not do it. 
But I will buy the right of the proper owners, even of the In- 
dians themselves. By doing this, I shall imitate God himself, 
in his justice and mercy, and thereby insure his blessing on 
my colony, if I should ever live to plant one in North America. 



ONE HUNDRED AND THIRD LESSON. 
CAPTAIN HARDY— NATHAN. AnOYiymOUS. 

Nathan. Good morning, captain. How do you stand this hot 
weather ? 

Captain. Bless you, boy, it's a cold bath to what we had at 
Monmouth ? Did I ever tell you about that-are battle ? 

N. I have always understood that it was dreadful hot that 
day ! 

Cap. Bless you, boy, it makes my crutch sweat to think on't 
— and if I didn't hate long stories, Pd tell you things about 
that-are battle, sich as you wouldn't believe, you rogue, if I 
didn't tell you. It beats all natur how hot it was. 

N. I wonder you did not all die of heat and fatigue. 

Cap. Why, so we should, if the reg'lars had only died first , 
but, you see, they never liked the Jarseys, and wouldn't lay 
their bones there. Now if I didn't hate long stories, I'd tell 
you all about that-are business, for you see they don't do things 
so now-a-days. 

N. How so ? Do not people die as they used to ? 

Cap. Bless you, no. It beat all natur to see how long the 
reg'lars would kick after we killed them. 

N. What ! kick after they were killed ! That does beat all 
natur, as you say. 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



159 



Cap. Come, boy, no splitting hairs with an old continental, 
for you see, if I didn't hate long stories, I'd tell you things 
about that-are battle, that you'd never believe. Why, bless 
you, when gineral Washington telled us we might give it to 
'em, we gin it to em, I tell you. 

N. You gave what to them ? 

Cap. Cold lead, you rogue. Why, bless you, we fired twice 
to their once, you see ; and if I didn't hate long stories, I'd tell 
you how we did it. You must know, the reglars wore their 
close-bodied red coats, because they thought we were afeared 
on 'em, but we did not wear any coats, you see, because we 
hadn't any. 

N. How happened you to be without coats ? 

Cap. Why, bless you, they would wear out, and the States 
couldn't buy us any more, you see, and so we marched the 
lighter, and worked the freer for it. Now if I did. not hate long 
stories, I would tell you what the gineral said to me next day, 
when I had a touch of the rheumatiz from lying on the field 
without a blanket all night. You must know, it was raining 
hard just then, and we were pushing on like all natur arter the 
reg'lars. 

N. What did the gineral say to you ? 

Cap. Not a syllable, says he, but off comes his coat, and he 
throws it over my shoulders, " there, captain," says he, " wear 
that, for. we can't spare you yet." Now don't that beat all 
natur, hey ? 

N. So you wore the general's coat, did you ? 

Cap. Lord bless your simple heart, no. I didn't feel sick 
arter that, I tell you. No, gineral, says I, they can spare me 
better than they can you, just now, and so I'll take the will for 
the deed, says I. 

N. You will never forget this kindness, captain. 

Cap. Not I, boy ! I never feel a twinge of the rheumatiz but 
what I say, God bless the gineral. Now you see, I hate long 
stories, or I'd tell you how I gin it to a reg'lar that tried to 
shoot the gineral at Monmouth. You know we were at close 
quarters, and the gineral was right between the two fires. 

N. I wonder he was not shot. 

Cap. Bless your ignorant soul, nobody could kill the gineral ; 



160 



DIALOGUES. 



but you see, a sneaking reg'lar didn't know this, and so he 
levelled his musket at him, and you see, I seed what he was 
arter, and I gin the gineral's horse a slap on the haunches, and 
it beats all natur how he sprung, and the gineral all the while 
as straight as a gun-barrel. 

N. And you saved the gineral's life. 

Cap. Didn't I tell you nobody could kill the gineral ? but, 
you see, his horse was in the rake of my gun, and I wanted to 
get the start of that cowardly reg'lar. 

N. Did you hit him ? 

Cap. Bless your simple soul, does the thunder hit where it 
strikes ! though the fellow made me blink a little, for he car- 
ried away part of this ear. — See there ! {Showing his ear.) 
Now don't that beat all natur ? 

N. I think it does. But tell me, how is it that you took all 
these things so calmly? What made you so contented under 
your privations and hardships ? 

Cap. Oh, bless your young soul, we got used to it. Besides, 
you see, the gineral never flinched nor grumbled 

N. Yes, but you served without being paid. 

Cap. So did the gineral, and the States, you know, were 
poor as all natur. 

N. But you had families to support. 

Cap. Ay, ay, but the gineral always told us that God and 
our country would take care of them, you see. Now, if I 
didn't hate long stories, I'd tell you how it turned out just as 
he said, for he beat all natur for guessing right. 

N. Then you feel happy, and satisfied with what you have 
done for your country, and what she has done for you ? 

Cap. Why, bless you, if I hadn't left one of my legs at York- 
town, I wouldn't have touched a stiver of the States' money, 
and as it is, I am so old, that I shall not need it long. You 
must know, I long to see the gineral again, for if he don't hate 
long stories as bad as I do, I shall tell him all about America, 
you see, for it beats all natur how things have changed since 
he left us 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



161 



ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTH LESSON. 
DIALOGUE ON PHYSIOGNOMY. 

Frank. It appears strange to me that people can be so Im- 
posed upon. There is no difficulty in judging folks by their 
looks. I profess to know as much of a man, at the first view, 
as by a half dozen years' acquaintance. 

Henry. Pray, how is that done ? I should wish to learn such 
an art. 

Fr. Did you never read Lavater on Physiognomy ? 

Hen. No. What do you mean by such a hard word ? 

Fr. Physiognomy means a knowledge of men's hearts, 
thoughts, and characters, by their looks. For instance, if you 
see a man with a forehead jutting over his eyes like a piazza ; 
with a pair of eyebrows heavy like the cornice of a house ; 
with full eyes, and a Roman nose, — depend on it, he is a great 
scholar, and an honest man. 

Hen. It seems to me I should rather go below his nose, to 
discover his scholarship. 

Fr. By no means : if you look for beauty, you may descend 
to the mouth and chin; otherwise never go below the region 
of the brain. 

Enter George. 

George. Well, I have been to see the man hanged. And he 
has gone to the other world, with just such a great forehead, 
and Roman nose, as you have always been praising. 

Fr. Remember, George, all signs fail in dry weather. 

Geor. Now, be honest, Frank, and own that there is nothing 
in all this science of yours. The only way to know men is by 
their actions. If a man commit burglary, think you a Roman 
nose ought to save him from punishment ? 

Fr. I don't carry my notions so far as that; but it is certain 
that all the faces in the world are different ; and equally true 
that each has some marks about it, by which one can discover 
the temper and character of the person. 
14* 



162 



DIALOGUES. 



Enter Peter. 

Peter [to Frank]. Sir, I have heard of your fame from Dan to 
Beersheba ; that you can know a man by his face, and can tell 
his thoughts by his looks. Hearing this, I have visited you, 
without the ceremony of an introduction. 

Fr. Why, indeed, I profess something in that way. 

Pet. By that forehead, nose, and those eyes of yours, one 
might be sure of an acute, penetrating mind. 

Fr. I see that you are not ignorant of Physiognomy. 

Pet. I am not ; but still I am so far from being an adept in 
the art, that unless the features are very remarkable, I cannot 
determine with certainty. But yours is the most striking face 
I ever saw. There is a certain firmness in the lines which 
iead from the outer verge to the centre of the apple of your 
eye, which denotes great forecast, deep thought, bright inven- 
tion, and a genius for great purposes. 

Fr. You are a perfect master of the art. And to show you 
that I know something of it, permit me to observe, that the 
form of your face denotes frankness, truth, and honesty. Your 
heart is a stranger to guile, your lips to deceit, and your hands 
to fraud. 

Pet. I must confess that you have hit upon my true charac- 
ter, though a different one from what I have sustained in the 
view of the world. 

Fr. [to Henry and George.] Now see two strong examples of 
the truth of physiognomy. [ While he is saying this, Peter takes 
out his pocket-book, and makes off with himself.] Now, can you 
conceive, that, without this knowledge, I could fathom the 
character of a total stranger ? 

Hen. Pray, tell us by what marks you discovered that in his 
heart and lips were no guile, and in his hands no fraud ! 

Fr. Ay, leave that to me ; we are not to reveal our secrets. 
But I will show you a face and character which exactly suit 
him. [Feels for his pocket-book in both pockets, looks wild and 
concerned.] 

Geor. [Tauntingly.] Ay, " in his heart is no guile, in his lips 
no deceit, and in his hands no fraud ! Now we see a strong 
example of the power of physiognomy !" 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



163 



Fr. He is a wretch ! a traitor against every good sign ! Til 
pursue him to the ends of the earth. {Offers to go.] 

Hen. Stop a moment. His fine, honest face is far enough 
before this time. You have not yet discovered the worst in- 
jury he has done you. 

Fr. What's that ? I had no watch or money for him to 
steal. 

Hen. By his deceitful lips, he has robbed you of any just 
conception of yourself ; he has betrayed you into a foolish be- 
lief that you are possessed of most extraordinary genius and 
talents. Whereas, separate from the idle whim about physi- 
ognomy, you have no more pretence to genius or learning 
than a common school-boy. Learn henceforth to estimate 
men's hands by their deeds, their lips by their words, and 
their hearts by their lives. 



ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTH LESSON. 



THE BATTLE OF LEXINGTON. — Cooper. 



Major Lincoln. 
Captain McFuse. 



British Officers. 



Seth Sage, a shrewd Yankee Prisoner. 
Job Pray, a Simpleton. 

Lincoln. What. have we here? Of what offence has Mr. 
Sage been guilty, that he bears those bonds ? 

McFuse. Of the small crimes of tr'ason and homicide, if 
shooting at a man, with a hearty mind to kill him. can make 
a murder. 

Sage. It can't. A man must kill, with wicked intent, to 
commit murder. 

McFuse. Hear to the blackguard, datailing the law, as if 
he were my Lord Chief Justice of the King's Bench ! And 
what was your own wicked intention, ye skulking vagabond, 
but to kill me ? I'll have you tried and hung for the same 
act. 



164 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



Sage. It's ag'in reason to believe that any jury will con- 
vict one man for the murder of another that ain't dead. 
There's no jury to be found in the Bay colony to do it. 

McFuse. Bay colony ! ye murdering thief and rebel ! I'll 
have ye transported to England ; ye shall be both transported 
and hung. I'll carry ye back to Ireland with me, and I'll 
hang ye up in the green island itself, and bury ye, in the 
heart of winter, in a bog ! 

Lincoln. But what is the offence that calls forth these 
severe threats ? 

McFuse. The scoundrel has been out. / 

Lincoln. Out ! 

McFuse. Ay, out, and be hanged to him, sir ! Has not 
the whole country been like so many bees in search of a 
hive? Is your memory so short, that ye forget, already, 
Major Lincoln, the tramp the blackguards have given you 
over hill and dale, through thick and thin ? 

Lincoln. And was Mr. Sage, then, found among our ene- 
mies to-day ? 

McFuse. Didn't I see him pull trigger on my own stature 
three times within as many minutes ? and didn't he break 
the handle of my sword ? and have not I a bit of lead he 
calls a buck-shot in my shoulder, as a present from the thief % 

Job. It's ag'in all law to call a man a thief, unless you can 
prove it upon him. 

McFuse. Do you hear the rascals ? They know every 
angle of the law as well, or better than I do myself, who am 
the son of a Cork counsellor. I dare to say you were among 
them too, and that ye deserve the gallows as well as your 
commendable companion, there. 

Lincoln. How is this ? Did you not only mingle in this 
rebellion, Mr. Sage, but also attempt the life of a gentleman 
who may be said, almost, to be an inmate of your own house ? 

Sage. I conclude it's best not to talk too much, seeing 
that no one can foretell what may happen. 



DIALOGUES. 



165 



McFuse. Hear to the cunning reprobate ! He has not 
the grace to acknowledge his own sins, like an honest man. 
But I can save him that small trouble. I brought him in, 
as you see, intending to hang him the first favorable oppor- 
tunity. 

Lincoln. If this be true, we must give him into the hands 
of the proper authorities ; for it remains to be seen yet what 
course will be adopted with the prisoners in this singular 
contest. 

McFuse. I should think nothing of the matter, if the 
reprobate had not tr'ated me like a beast of the field with 
his buckshot ; and taking his aim each time,- as though I had 
been a mad dog. Ye villain ! do you call yourself a man, 
and aim at a fellow-creature as you would at a brute % 

Sage. Why, when a man has pretty much made up his 
mind to fight, I conclude it's best to take aim, in order to 
save ammunition and time. 

Lincoln. You acknowledge the charge, then ? 

Sage. As the major is a moderate man, and will hear to 
reason, I will talk the matter over with him rationally. You 
see I had a small call to Concurd, early this morning • 

Lincoln. Concord ! 

Sage. Yes, Concurd ; it lies here-away, say twenty or 
one-and-twenty miles 

McFuse. Hang your Concords and your miles too ! Is 
there a man in the army who can forget the desateful place % 
Go on with your defence, without talking to us of the dis- 
tance, who have measured the road by inches. 

Sage. The captain is hasty and rash ! — But, being there, 
I went out of town with some company that I happened in 
with ; and, after a time, we concluded to return. And so, 
as we came to a bridge, about a mile beyond the place, we 
received considerable rough treatment from some of the 
king's troops, who were standing there 

Lincoln. What did they ? 



166 



ELOCUTION MADE EASY. 



Sage. They fired at us, and killed two of our company, 
besides other threatening doings. There were some among 
ns that took the matter up in considerable airnest ; and there 
was a sharp toss about it for a few minutes — though finally 
the law prevailed. 

Lincoln. The law ! 

Sage. Sartin — tis ag'in all law, I believe the major will 
own, to shoot peaceable men on the public highway. 

Lincoln. Proceed with your tale in your own way. 

Sage. That is pretty much the whole of it. The people 
rather took that, and some other things that happened, at 
Lexington, to heart ; — and — I suppose the major knows the 
rest. 

McFuse. But what has all this to do with your attempt 
to murder me, you hypocrite 1 Confess the whole, ye thief, 
that I may hang you with an aisy conscience ! 

Lincoln. Enough ; the man has acknowledged sufficient 
already to justify us in transferring him to the custody of 
others. Let him be taken to the main guard, and delivered 
as a prisoner of this day. 

Sage. I hope the major will look to my things. I shall 
hold him accountable for all. 

Lincoln. Your property shall be protected, and I hope 
your life may not be in jeopardy. 

Job. The king can't hang Seth Sage for firing back, when 
the reg'lars fired first. 

McFuse. Perhaps you were out, too, Master Solomon — 
amusing yourself at Concord, with a small party of select 
friends ? 

Job. Job didn't go any further than Lexington ; and he 
hasn't got any friend, except old Nab. 

McFuse. * # * Satan has possessed the minds of the peo- 
ple ! Lawyers and doctors — praists and sinners — old and 
young — girls and women — big and little — beset us in our 
march ; and here is a fool to be added to the number ! I 



DIALOGUES. 



167 



dare say that fellow, now, has attempted to murder in his 
day, too. 

Job. Job scorns such wickedness. He only shot one 
granny, and hit an officer in the arm. 

McFuse. D'ye hear that, Major Lincoln ? D'ye hear that 
shell of a man — that effigy — boasting of having killed a 
grenadier ? 

Lincoln. Hold ! — Remember we are soldiers, and that the 
boy is not a responsible being. No tribunal would ever sen- 
tence such an unfortunate creature to the gibbet ; and, in 
general, he is as harmless as a babe 

McFuse. ***** Hang such babes ! A pretty fellow 
is he to kill a man of six feet ! and with a ducking gun, I'll 
engage. — I'll not hang the rascal, Major Lincoln, since it is 
your particular wish I'll only have him buried alive. 

Lincoln. Foolish boy ! did I not warn you that wicked 
men might endanger your life ? How was it that I saw you 
in arms to-day, against the troops ? 

Job. How came the troops in arms ag'in Job? They 
needn't think to wheel about the Bay province, clashing their 
godless drums and trumpets, burning housen, and shooting 
people, and find no stir about it ! 

Lincoln. Do you know that your life has been twice for- 
feited within twelve hours, by your own confession ? — once for 
murder, and again for treason against your king ? You 
have acknowledged killing a man. 

Job. Yes — Job shot the granny; but he didn't let the 
people kill Major Lincoln. 

Lincoln. True, true ; I owe my life to you ; — and that 
debt shall be cancelled at every hazard. 



CONTENTS. 



Organs of Speech 5 

Formation of the Consonants • • 5 

Key for the sound of the Vowels 7 

Exercises in Articulation 7 

Grammatical Pauses « 12 

R hetorical Pauses 12 

Inflections 13 

The Rainbow 27 

Heroism of Deborah 29 

Heroism of Jephtha's Daughter 30 

Gesture 32 

The Miser and Plutus 39 

Speech of James Otis 45 

The American Indians 47 

Lafayette 49 

English Taxes 51 

South Carolina 52 

Massachusetts 53 

Speech of Chatham against the Ameri- 
can War** 56 

Speech of Patrick Henry 59 

Supposed Speech of John Adams 62 

Rolla's Address to the Peruvians 68 

Washington 69 

Scotland 71 

The Queen of France 73 

National Glory 74 

The necessity of Union 75 

The importance of preserving our form of 

Government 77 

The Monument on Bunker Hill 78 

The Battle of Lexington 80 

The American Revolution 82 

Appeal in Behalf of Greece 83 

Ancient Oratory 86 

Plunket's Speech against the Union of 

Ireland and England 87 

Obstacles to the Extinction of War 88 

The Battle at Marathon 90 

Chatham's Reply to Walpole 91 

Cataline's Speech 93 

r l he Right to tax America 94 

Brutus on the Death of Caesar 95 

Pienzi's Address to the Romans 96 

Henry 5th to his Soldiers 97 

rattan's Reply to Corry 93 

7 he Influence of the United States upon 
other Nations 100 



A Revolutionary Song 101 

Liberty = loi 

On to the Strife 102 

The Eattle Field 103 

The Pilgrims 104 

The Severance of South Carolina from 

the Union 105 

The Charge 107 

The Importance of a Firm National Char- 
acter 108 

Old Ironsides 109 

Leonidas 110 

To Arms Ill 

Make Way for Liberty 112 

The Efficiency of Woman 114 

Ye Sons of Sires ' 116 

Fourth of July 116 

The Survivors of the Revolution 117 

Life without Freedom 118 

Ode for Independence 119 

Midnieht Musings l':o 

The Dying Archer 123 

The American Fiag 124 

The Aneel of the Leaves M6 

The Sons- of the Angels ICS 

Life: An Allegory 159 

The Cloud 131 

The Broken Heart 133 

The Pilsrrim Fathers 136 

A Sketch 137 

The Disembodied Spirit 139 

Colonel Haynes 148 

Spirit of Freedom l >2 

Lakes and the Ocean 144 

Marco Bozzaris 145 

Sublimity of Mountain Scenery 146 

My Mother's Grave 147 

I would not Live Alway 143 

Knowledge 150 

Moonlight and a Field of Battle 150 

Absalom 15:2 

Dialogue Charles II., and William Penn- -156 

Captain Hardy and Nathan 158 

" On Physiognomy 161 

" The Battle of Lexington • • • 164 



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